Another Dawn
by Sanguine1
Summary: An angst-filled AU Season 6 fic. Spike brings Buffy back from the dead and wackiness ensues.
1. Chapter 1

dawn1upload.html Title: Another Dawn, Chapter 1   
Author: Sanguine   
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and 20th-Century Fox own these characters. The situations presented here come from my own twisted brain.   
Distribution: With permission.   
Rating: PG-13   
Thanks to Beth at BAPS for inspiring this fic. Thanks to Joss Whedon for writing a thought-provoking show. Thanks to James Marsters for being a fabulous actor.   


Spike watched her dance. She was so young, so succulent. Yeah. She'd make a nice trophy, a pretty corpse. Unconsciously his tongue touched his top lip. Just wait. Wait 'til Saturday.

Spike watched her slay. Vampire dust filled the air. So powerful. Mmmm. This was going to be fun. He brought his hands together, applauding her performance.

"Nice work, love."   
"Who are you?"   
"You'll find out on Saturday."   
"What happens on Saturday?"   
"I kill you."

Spike never kept his promises.

Spike watched her die. Well, not exactly. He was there though. And he killed her. But it wasn't a Saturday.

Buffy's lips pressed to Spike's. His body ached. His heart ached. He felt like a guilty boy. Guilt. Interesting emotion, that. "And my robot?"

"The robot is gone. The robot was gross and obscene . . . What you did for me and Dawn . . . that was real. I won't forget it."

Spike watched her leave. He did nothing. Absolutely bloody nothing. She's gone and he did nothing.

Spike woke up and felt the burning of his leg, a leg he'd purposely placed so the sun would hit it. Better than a fucking alarm clock. Another dawn. But no Buffy.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

Spike took a swig of whiskey. Whiskey was his drink of choice now, even more than blood. Drinking blood made him remember what he was. Drinking whiskey made him forget. He felt the substance burn its way down his esophagus and wished it were real fire. He'd been consumed once. Buffy had done that. Now there was just an empty shell. A shell he wished he could burn and leave as ashes. But he was too much of a wanker. Spike took another swig of whiskey and watched the second hand on the new watch he'd bought. He'd never thought about time before. Now he wanted to watch every passing second of the eternity that was his miserable life. It gave him a masochistic pleasure to consider the second hand, dragging itself along. He wanted to feel every second of pain. He wanted to live every second of his failure.

"I'm counting on you, Spike. To protect her."

"'Til the end of the world. Even if that happens to be tonight."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

Spike roused himself from his drunken stupor. Time to go kill stuff. Had he been able to look in a mirror he would have seen his face, gaunt and pale from lack of blood. He was starving himself. His hair, which he had meticulously bleached every two weeks, was a shaggy blonde-brown mess. He no longer had his duster. He had buried that with Buffy. He didn't want it anymore.

Spike emerged from his crypt and silently prayed to whatever deity he knew didn't exist that he wouldn't see one of the Scoobies. After their last meeting, Spike hoped they'd gotten the message. He didn't want to have anything to do with them. He didn't want anything to do with anything. He just wanted to kill.

And he soon got his wish. A vampire emerged from the earth below him, grabbing his ankle. Crunch. Spike's boot connected with its head. Spike stood back and waited for the vamp to recover. The creature rushed him. Spike's fist connected with his jaw. He felt it break beneath his knuckles. The monster went down. Spike kicked it. And kicked it again. And again. And again. The vampire's head finally detached itself from its body and flew across the cemetery until it hit a gravestone with a wet thud. The vampire turned to dust. Spike was satisfied. Time for a drink.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

Spike entered the Bronze. Humans everywhere. He could hear their blood rushing through their veins. It sang to him. He was so hungry and yet the thought of drinking from any one of them was nauseating.

"Guinness, mate."

"Spike you're not gonna cause any trouble in here tonight. If you do, we're gonna ban you."

Spike took a sip of his drink and smiled wryly. "I'll be good. I'm always good."

Ten drinks later Spike was in the alleyway behind the Bronze. This was the alley where he'd seen Buffy fight. Twack. The frat boy's fist connected with his jaw.

"What did you say about my girlfriend?"

Spike licked the blood from his lip and smiled. "I said she was a whore. She offered to shag me you know."

"Liar." Frat boy slammed his meaty fist into Spike's eye socket. Spike felt his eye swelling already. Another black eye . . .   
Frat boy's fist connected again, splitting his lip. And again, bruising his cheek.

Spike rushed him, fists flying. As the chip activated, the pain was searing. Just what he wanted.

Spike lay in the alleyway, bleeding and unconscious. Just what he wanted.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

"Spike?"

"Spike?"

A hand touched his shoulder. "Spike, wake up."

"Buffy?" he murmured. "Luv?"

Willow's eyes filled with tears. "No Spike. It's me and Dawn."

"Go away." His eyes shut in his swollen and deformed face.

"No."

He raised himself up from the stone floor and looked Willow in the eye menacingly. "You don't want to be here."

"Spike, you have to . . ."

Spike pushed Willow away, causing her to fall in a misshapen heap. He clutched his head as the blinding pain punished him.

Willow's eyes turned dark. "That's enough you selfish bastard." Her spell sent Spike slamming into the wall of his crypt.

"Willow, no!" Dawn went to Spike's side. "Don't you see? That's what he wants." Gently she grasped his hand. "Spike. Buffy told us to take care of each other."

Spike could feel the sob well up in the back of his throat. "Buffy also made me promise to protect you. Look what a brilliant job I did of that."

Dawn smiled as the tears streamed down her cheeks. "Well you're kind of sucking at it right now. I haven't seen you for weeks. How can you protect me when you're not even around?"

"Nibblet, I . . ."

Willow interrupted. "Spike, listen. What happened was horrible. But remember what guilt did to Buffy? She believed she'd killed Dawnie and she went all coma-girl on us. We need you."

Spike's shoulders slumped. The silence stretched on for many moments. When he finally responded, his voice was a whisper. "Buffy made me feel like a man, but we all know what I really am."

"What is that Spike?" Willow asked.

Spike heard her pulse increase as she waited for his answer, saw the life rushing through the artery in her neck. "A monster."

"Oh God." Dawn pulled Spike into her arms. "No Spike. It's not true."

Spike completely dissolved into tears. "Yes . . . yes it bloody well is." He looked at Willow. "I was the one who introduced Dawn to Doc. And then he showed up and I couldn't stop him. It's all my fault."

Willow sighed. "Dawn told me about your little resurrection adventure. You might have been misguided, but you were only trying to help."

"But that's the problem Will. I don't have anything to guide me anymore. Buffy showed me what was right and even when she was around I bollocksed it up. She was my bleeding soul. Now she's gone . . ."

Dawn squeezed Spike's hand excitedly. "But Spike, that's why we've come to see you. We think we've figured out a way to bring her back, and we can't do it without you."

"Huh?"

END PART ONE   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

dawn2upload.html Title: Another Dawn, Chapter 2   
Author: Sanguine   
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and 20th-Century Fox own these characters. The situations presented here come from my own twisted brain.   
Distribution: With permission.   
Rating: PG-13   
Thanks to Gabriel for his great ideas.   


"My God, Spike. What happened to you?" Giles considered the vampire's mangled face with a mixture of concern and suspicion.

"Rupert. Didn't know you were back." Spike sat down heavily, his head still ringing from his recent beating and the residual effects of the Guinness. "Kiss the Librarian" the mug of pig's blood in front of him proclaimed. He felt sick.

"I returned from England yesterday." Giles removed his glasses and wiped them absentmindedly with the corner of his shirt. "I . . . I had to be here."

Spike nodded and looked around the table at the Scoobies. Xander's lost weight. Wonder if he and Anya are married yet? The Wiccans are still in love by the looks of it. And Niblet. She looks bad. Dark circles 'round her eyes. Little one like that needs more sleep. Probably not eating proper either. Wonder if she's still staying with Xander and his ex-demon? Willow must've cast a spell on the Child and Family Services folk to pull that one off.

"Earth to Spike." Xander's voice cut through his thoughts. "We kinda need you with us deadboy."

Spike glared at Xander, too exhausted and hungover to think of a witty reply. "So how do we bring back Buffy? Will and Dawn were kind of sketchy on the details. They just told me we had to bring her back and they'd found a way." Spike shot a threatening look at Willow. "Look Wicca girl, I don't want zombie Buffy. I want *my* Buffy back."

Willow shook her head. "Spike. First I have to point out that she's not *your* Buffy. And of course she won't be a zombie. None of us want that."

Spike shuffled his feet. "'Kay. I was just checking. Don't get your knickers in a twist."

Willow rolled her eyes. "Just listen, don't talk."

"Listening. . ."

"No new Slayer has been called." Willow looked at Spike to see his reaction, but his bruised face was an unreadable mask. She took a big breath and continued. "See, Buffy died once before. Another Slayer was called then, and when she was killed Faith was called. Now Faith is in jail and until she dies the world is effectively Slayerless. The word's gotten out and the past few months . . . well the Hellmouth has really become demon party central."

"And I care about this why?"

Tears began streaming from Dawn's eyes. "Because they're after me Spike. Apparently my blood still has amazing and wacky properties. It's always me. Maybe I should just let them have me and then it would be over."

Panic flitted across Spike's face. "No. No way. I've lost one of you. You're not dying Dawn. We're gonna fix this."

Dawn exploded. "Oh yeah, you're the great protector of me. I haven't even seen you for months and . . ."

"Enough." Giles's voice reverberated through the shop. "You two, sort this out later. Willow continue."

Chastened, Dawn and Spike sank back in their seats.

"In an obscure passage of the Codex, I found something about resurrecting the Slayer. It's never been attempted, but this could have been written with you and Buffy in mind:

'And she shall sacrifice herself to save the world. And a key shall appear to unlock the door. And the soulless demon shall drink the blood and find the passage to death through the water. With his quest, balance shall be restored.'"

Spike's hand shook as he took a sip from his mug. "So it's all about the blood is it?"

Dawn dried her tears. "It's all about my blood."

Spike pushed the mug away. "I won't do it."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"C'mon Niblet, wait up."

"No."

Dawn ran. She just wanted to get away from him. With every word he betrayed her. He didn't care. He didn't want to help her. Finally her raged erupted. She turned and faced the vampire limping towards her. "Look, you fucking pest. I know you loved Buffy and wanted to shag her brains out, but you don't love me. You've made that really clear these past few months. I was hoping that you'd help with this and then we could both be happy and have Buffy back. But maybe you don't even care about her? You don't care about anything but you."

Spike stopped. "I'm sorry."

"What?"

"I said I'm sorry."

Dawn stared.

"I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you after Buffy died. I didn't think you'd want to see me, considering that I didn't save you and I got her killed. I broke my promise and she died. I couldn't protect you then and I can't protect you now."

Dawn sighed. "We've gone over this Spike. It's not your fault. You tried."

"Trying isn't good enough Niblet. Trying gets people hurt and killed."

"But you can fix your mistake now Spike. You can have your precious Buffy back."

"That may be so, but I'm not gonna hurt you to do it."

"That's the price Spike."

"Then it's too high. 'Sides, that prophecy seemed bloody ambiguous to me."

"The prophecy doesn't say anything about killing me. It just says you have to drink my blood. You don't have to take it all. Besides, you can't drink it directly from me anyway, 'cause of your chip."

"Yes I can."

Dawn's eyes grew wide. "You can?"

Spike nodded. "Chip works on intent, Dawn. I think if you want me to bite you and I'm not doing it to hurt you then . . ."

"Great. So we've found a short cut."

"Don't think so. What would Buffy say if we did bring her back, and she found out I'd been chomping on her little sis? Rather have your blood in a mug thanks."

"OK, whatever. You drink the blood, then you take a swim in the Master's old paddling pool."

"Is that the bit about the water?"

Dawn nodded.

"What if I fail?"

"You won't fail Spike. You have to come back to me. I still have to show you the earrings I swiped from Anya."

Spike ruffled Dawn's hair affectionately. "You're a quick study, kid."   


END PART TWO   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

dawn3upload.html Title: Another Dawn, Chapter 3   
Author: Sanguine   
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and 20th-Century Fox own these characters. The situations presented here come from my own twisted brain.   
Distribution: With permission.   
Rating: PG-13   
This chapter is for Clairel. Thanks for inspiring this installment.   


Spike sucked the nicotine-laden smoke into his lungs and held it there. "I need a fix, 'cause I'm going down." He laughed at himself, muttering as he exhaled, "Mother Superior jumped the bloody gun." He flicked the ashes into the shallow pool then sent the unfinished cigarette after the embers, seeming nonchalant. He was anything but. 

His attention turned to Dawn, pale now and sitting heavily on the slimy rock floor of the Master's old digs. She looked pretty bad. It's one thing not eating and not getting enough sleep. It's another having your blood drained right out of you. 

Spike hadn't been able to watch as Giles had cut into Dawn's flesh. "Shallow cuts . . . Shallow cuts." The blood poured into the ceremonial chalice. Why did everything have to be so bloody ceremonial? 

Spike looked down at the chalice in his hands filled with Dawn's blood, or was it Buffy's blood? His mind swirled with confusion. The Scoobies were looking at him, waiting. Will was chanting away, her eyes dark. The pool didn't seem so shallow anymore. Spike lifted the chalice and saluted them. "Cheers mates." Then he drank. The blood, Dawn's blood. So rich. So . . . he shuddered in pleasure, gulping the liquid greedily, not caring if some of it spilled from the corners of his mouth. He felt his teeth lengthen. No. He didn't want that to be the last thing Little Bit saw before . . . 

He jumped. 

The pool wasn't shallow. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

Spike landed with a crash. Pain shot through his body. Where the hell was he? Fire shot through the window. Sounds of a riot. Then he saw it . . . well, her. And he saw himself too. Fighting. The Chinese Slayer. 

Suddenly a hand rested on his shoulder. She spoke Chinese, but he understood. "William." 

Her eyes were pools of hate. 

"You never gave my mother the message, did you?" 

Her hand immobilised him, and he had to watch. Spin, kick, punch. She was good with the sword that one. Was that admiration? Spike, the other not-so-pleasant Spike, licked his own blood from his lips. He loved this. Violence, mayhem. 

"And sod all else, right?" the Chinese Slayer whispered in his ear. 

Spike didn't know the Chinese used that kind of slang. 

"Yeah baby." 

Her grip tightened on his shoulder. Then he saw himself, the look of desperation in the Slayer's eyes as he took her life. "Sorry, Love. I don't speak Chinese." 

Watching her die excited him. His body responded as he remembered how it felt to have the blood of the powerful Slayer rushing through his veins. Then Drusilla. It was a powerful aphrodisiac after all. 

His eyes caressed the young girl's motionless form. Gently the Chinese Slayer whispered in his ear, "My mother killed herself. I was all she had." 

Spike suddenly understood what her mother felt. If it weren't for Dawn, he would have done the same thing. Killed himself. 

"Remarkable." 

Who the hell was that? 

Then nothing. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

Thud. 

"Oh bloody hell, what now?" 

A black-booted foot slammed into his face. "Where's my coat, punk?" 

Nikki, the subway slayer. 

Spike felt powerless against her blows. He raised his hands. "You're not as nice as the other one." 

Slam. 

Blood poured from a freshly opened wound on his cheek. He tried to retaliate, but somehow none of the punches he threw landed. "Why do all you Slayers like playing kick the Spike so much?" 

Whap. "Maybe, you asshole, because you enjoy hurting us so much. You do enjoy it, don't you?" 

An uppercut to Spike's jaw sent him flying across the subway car. He was in a subway car? When had that happened? 

Shakily he scrambled to his feet. 

"Not anymore." 

Nikki tossed him to the ground, straddling him, pinning him down. He was helpless. He felt her hands around his neck. 

"You liked feeling all powerful didn't you? Hard thing to give up." 

"Yeah, well, I didn't exactly have a choice. That bloody chip." The words came out as a gruff whisper. 

"There's always a choice Spike . . . William. You know that." 

"I am what I am you bint." 

"You are what you created, what you learned, what you thought you had to be. Now you're learning new tricks, right?" 

The pressure on his throat increased. The bloody Slayer was gonna pop his head right off. Rebellion surged up. 

"Old dogs don't learn new tricks, bitch." 

Nikki shook her head. "What are you so afraid of?" 

"None of your fucking business." 

Her fingernails dug painfully into his neck, drawing blood. "Now punk. And make it real." 

"Him." 

"Who?" 

"William." 

Nikki laughed. "You're still a freak **William**. Everyone still hates and mocks you. What's the difference being Spike?" 

"No one can hurt me." A pathetic, desperate gasp. 

Nikki laughed again and squeezed even harder. "Yeah, right." 

Spike lost consciousness. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

His eyes opened. He was face to face with her. The shell of her. Buffy. She looked so peaceful. 

His eyes drifted beyond the body. He felt strangely detached. He saw Willow crying. Then he saw himself, hysterical, his carefully constructed persona dissolved under the weight of grief and failure. 

"No one can hurt me." 

He looked again upon Buffy's motionless body. Guilt ran through him as he stroked her cheek. So soft. So cold. 

"I'm sorry love." 

Buffy's eyes opened. 

"Oh my God." 

Buffy sat up and slapped his hand away. "Spike. What the hell happened to your hair?" 

END PART THREE   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

dawn4upload.html Title: Another Dawn, Chapter 4   
Author: Sanguine   
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and 20th-Century Fox own these characters. The situations presented here come from my own twisted brain.   
Distribution: With permission.   
Rating: PG-13 for violence, angst, language, sexual innuendo   
It's all about the blood Alane. Sorry, I just couldn't help it!   


Spike trembled. Emotions flooded him: love, guilt, and somewhere underneath it all the purest happiness he had ever experienced. Tears escaped from his eyes. Quickly he wiped them away before they could trail down his cheeks. Stop. It. He was turning into a broody wanker. Nevertheless, the tears still came and words too, unbidden. 

"Buffy. Oh God. Buffy." 

Unconsciously he reached for her with shaking hands, to feel her, to see if she was real, but something stopped him. Maybe it was the stake she pressed to his heart. Yeah. Reckon that would stop any bloke. Any undead one anyway. 

She smiled. "I asked what happened to your hair." 

Raged surged up in him and he did some smacking of his own. Her stake clattered uselessly to the floor. "Bloody hell woman! You were dead. I wasn't thinking about personal grooming!" He ran a self-conscious hand through his blonde-brown mane. "'Sides, I came to rescue you from the Underworld and all. You should be right grateful. Now if you could just point me in the direction of whatever big nasty I have to chat with to spring you . . . " 

He looked around. They weren't at the construction site anymore. They were at the Bronze. 

"Wha?" 

"Haven't you ever read Dickens Spike?" 

"Of cours . . . nah." 

Buffy sighed impatiently. 

Wonder if he could light a cigarette in this netherworld place? He took out his crushed pack of Marlboros. Guess he'd find out. 

Success. 

He drew the smoke into his lungs, savouring it, then slowly exhaled. "Yeah, yeah, so you're the Ghost of Christmas Future?" 

Ghost Buffy coughed as his second-hand smoke lingered between them. "Well, not exactly. Look down there." 

Then he saw her. Young Buffy. Pre-Angelus Buffy. Relatively-Innocent Buffy. Dancing-with-Xander-at-the-Bronze Buffy. 

He'd wanted her even then.   
He'd loved her even then.   
He'd wanted to kill her even then. 

Then out in the alleyway. The words that haunted his nightmares. 

"What happens on Saturday?"   
"I kill you." 

Then he saw it all. Joyce swinging an axe. Buffy fighting vamps on video. A helpless maiden at Halloween. The assassination attempt. An uneasy truce. An invite to the Summers' home. 

Angelus. Dru. He was alone. He'd always been alone. No one had ever wanted him. 

The scenes came faster now. Fighting Buffy in the sun of Sunnydale. Betraying them to Adam. Was he any better than Angelus? 

Following Buffy. Smelling her scent. Stroking cashmere. Games with Harmony. Naughty games. Trapping Buffy. Chaining her up. Controlling her . . . not controlling her. Creating things in her image to control, to shag. 

But none of it was real. 

Glory's finger thrust into his chest. Spike screamed in pain. 

"Death and Love, baby. Eros and Thanatos. I ate Freud's receptionist you know. Tasty. Never liked cigars." Spike was babbling now. It Was All. Too. Much. 

Buffy kissed his swollen lips. 

He knew. Maybe he'd always known. Maybe that had frightened him. He loved her. He wanted her. He'd die for her. But he'd failed. 

He saw Buffy leap into space. Oh God had he failed. It should have been him. He began to cry. 

"So what was the point of that trip down memory lane, pet? Torture me a bit? Punish me?" 

Ghost Buffy licked her lips. They shone. Spike moved just a millimetre closer. Ghost Buffy whispered, almost seductively, "You are a monster Spike. You are a man. We need both to bring her back. Embrace what you are William." 

God he wanted to kiss her. He knew it wasn't real but . . . 

Then he saw her. 

Buffy. 

The Real Buffy. 

She stood in the clothes she'd fought Glory in, staring sightlessly into nothingness. 

"Anything. I'll do anything. Just tell me what to do." 

Ghost Buffy's lips grazed Spike's cheek, just above his ear, causing him to shudder. "You have to die." 

Spike drew another drag from his cigarette and shrugged. "No problem." He threw the cigarette to the floor and ground it out beneath his heel. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

"I won't do it." 

"But Spike, don't you want to fix your mistake? Now is your chance." Ghost Buffy was getting very impatient with her unkempt vampiric charge. 

"OK. That's fine. I die. But I don't want Buffy drinking my blood. I don't want her coming back . . ." 

"Like you?" Ghost Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Would it be that bad Spike?" 

"Bloody hell woman! Yes! It would be that bad. A Slayer running around all bloodlusty and soulless? Who came up with this stupid idea anyway?" 

"Insulting the Powers that Be won't help you Spike." 

"Right then." He considered Ghost Buffy carefully, then turned to Real Buffy. "She's just a shell, isn't she?" 

Ghost Buffy nodded. "She needs to be filled." 

"Not with me she doesn't." 

Ghost Buffy laughed. "Yeah right Spike." 

Spike realised the implications of what he'd said. He must be losing it. Wasn't like him to miss a bit of sexual innuendo. He sighed a useless, ineffectual sigh. 

"Right then. Can you promise me that she won't be all vampy? That she'll just be Buffy?" 

"No promises Spike. No guarantees." 

"Can't do it then." He lit another cigarette and defiantly blew smoke at Ghost Buffy. 

"Really? Maybe this will change your mind." 

Ghost Buffy waived her hand in front of his face and a scene appeared. He saw himself, running up the staircase of Buffy's old house. "Dawn! Dawn!" 

Spike felt fear. 

Wild-eyed, he reached the top of the stairs. "Dawn?" He banged on her old bedroom door. "Little Bit. Open up, it's me." 

No answer. 

"Niblet. This isn't funny now." 

No answer. 

Spike's black-booted foot easily broke down the door. 

Dawn lay on the bed, eyes rolled back in her head, her blood dripping onto the floor from her slit wrists. Was she? 

Dead. 

He'd killed both of them. 

Spike grabbed her body from the bed, not caring. He ran downstairs, sobbing, into the sunlight, burning the pain from his flesh. 

It was over. 

"OK. You win." 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

Spike slit his wrist with the ceremonial knife. Dawn's blood, his blood, Buffy's blood? It welled up along the edge of the cut. 

Sleepily Buffy's eyes focused on the blood. 

"I'm so sorry pet." Spike gently brought her head to his wrist, encouraging her to drink. 

At first she was tentative, then she sucked greedily. 

Spike felt his life draining away. Had his victims felt like this? The final gasp? The look of peace? Everything was fading. 

Buffy felt the life coursing through her veins. So powerful. Then the memories. 

Resentment. Power. Death. The Key. Drawing pictures. Laughing. Stealing. Grief. Tears. Jealousy. She is real. Dawn. 

Buffy paused. Spike's hand on the back of her neck weakly encouraged her to continue drinking. 

Hate. Desire. Love. Spike. Watching her. Wanting her. Never having her. Rage absolute. Inadequate. Unloved. William. 

Buffy knew everything. 

"See you later little girl." Doc laughed. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

Spike and Buffy were violently thrust out of the pool. 

"Guys!" 

In spite of her blood loss Dawn was right there with hope-filled eyes. "Buffy. Oh God, Buffy!" 

Buffy's eyes fluttered open. "Dawnie?" 

All the Scoobies gathered around, not quite believing what they were seeing. Buffy. She came back. 

Tears flowed. 

Then they noticed. 

Spike. 

His face was ashen. His cheeks were sunken in. 

Dawn shook his bony shoulder. "Spike! Spike! Wake up." 

No answer. 

"No! No!" Dawn hugged the skeletal form of the vampire, rocking back and forth. 

Giles gently put a hand on her shoulder. "It's torpor Dawn. He just needs blood." 

Xander considered him. "He sure looks dead Giles." 

Giles smiled wanly. "He is dead Xander. He has been since we've known him." 

END PART FOUR   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

dawn5upload.html Title: Another Dawn, Chapter 5   
Author: Sanguine   
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and 20th-Century Fox own these characters. The situations presented here come from my own twisted brain.   
Distribution: With permission.   
Rating: PG-13 for angst and language   


"Is it weird being back?"

Willow tried to sound cheerful, like Buffy had just been away on a vacation instead of, well, being dead. Several weeks had passed since Buffy's return. This little excursion to the Bronze was her first time out of the house. Willow remembered how weak and confused her friend had been. Willow wanted to turn Spike into a rat after she'd heard the details of what he done to Buffy. Having her drink his blood?!? The Codex didn't say anything about that! Besides, blood-drinking, that was just . . . ewwww. Well, unless you were Spike. After she'd finished berating the newly non-torpored vampire they all watched as Giles held a mirror up to Buffy's face. Thankfully there was a reflection. Buffy also passed the crucifix, holy water, and sunrise tests with flying colours. Whatever Spike had done, it had worked. Buffy was back.

Buffy took a sip and swirled the hot, bitter liquid around in her mouth before swallowing. Sometimes the little pleasures were the most profound. She attempted a small smile. "Yeah. I mean I don't remember what it was like . . . where I was. I just remember . . . well." Buffy broke off uncomfortably. She remembered drinking blood from Spike's wrist. She remembered everything about that. "It's just weird having his memories and Dawn's memories swirling around in my head." She looked down at her coffee mug and watched the cream swirl around its surface. "I feel how much he wanted to kill me."

"Creepy," Xander chimed in.

Buffy nodded in agreement. "It is. But I also know how much he loved me. Loves me. I know he'd never do anything to hurt Dawn or me. But I guess I knew that already, before I . . . um." She broke off suddenly, unable to articulate what had really happened to her, what she'd done.

Willow sighed. Time to change the subject. "So what about Doc? You said you heard his voice?"

Buffy's heart began to race. Doc. She knew he had something to do with her re-appearance in the land of the living. "All I know is right before I came back, I heard someone . . . I . . . know it was him."

Xander laughed derisively. "Why can't he just stay dead? That's a really annoying quality."

Buffy looked at him.

Xander cleared his throat. "I ran a sword right through his snake-demony little heart, you know?"

"Yeah, I threw him from that tower, and somehow he still managed to taunt me in the afterlife." Buffy tried to banter, but her heart wasn't in it. "Spike knew him before. Before that night I mean."

Xander picked up a sugar packet and shook it violently before dumping it in his coffee. "Yeah, Dawn fessed up about the whole plan to resurrect your mom. Spike felt real bad about that. Said he didn't know Doc was such a baddie. He'd just heard that Doc knew some dark mojo."

"Spike felt real bad about everything after you . . . after that night with Glory. He thought it was all his fault." Willow paused. "He looked horrible. Stopped eating. Stopped bleaching!"

"That's the thing," Buffy's voice shook slightly. "I don't just know it, I feel it. I feel Dawn's pain too. What she felt that night. How she felt about me as a sister." A small laugh escaped from her lips. "I was a real bitch to Dawn sometimes, wasn't I? And to Spike . . ."

"Sweetie." Willow squeezed Buffy's shoulder. "You were wonderful with Dawn after your mother died. Don't blame yourself. You sacrificed everything for her. And Spike . . . well, the change was so drastic. One day he was chains boy the next he was taking the torture for you."

Buffy looked directly into Willow's eyes. "At least I forgave him at the end. And he knew it before I died."

Died.

The word hung there. Everyone took another sip of their coffee.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Buffy walked home from the Bronze. She wanted to be alone and the six-block walk was a perfect opportunity to gather her thoughts. She considered the setting sun. It was beautiful, but it hurt her eyes. Too bright. Yes, she was back from the dead. Yes, her former mortal enemy was the one who'd brought her back, who was in her house right now, probably playing PlayStation with Dawn. Thank goodness for Willow and her forgetting spells. As far as Child and Family Services were concerned, she'd never been gone. That was one less thing to worry about at least. Now she just had to think about being a mother. And getting a job. Slaying didn't really pay the bills. And she had to think what to do about Spike.

No, she really didn't need to think about Spike. Not any more than was absolutely necessary. Of course she was grateful. But it was unsettling to know exactly how he felt about her. He worshipped her. To quote him, that was a boatload of responsibility to come her way. To be worshipped like that. . . what if she disappointed him? What if he saw how she looked in the morning? What if he found out that she wasn't as sure and strong as she seemed?

Why was she worrying about him finding out how she looked in the morning? Like he was ever going to see that. Right?

Right.

What if he found out about her dreams?

He said there was darkness in her. He knew it. He sensed it. He loved it.

He was right.

She remembered drinking his blood.

She licked her lips, remembering the power of his life force flowing through her, ebbing from him. The look of peace . . .

She brushed by a woman on the street. As she passed, Buffy could hear the blood rushing through the woman's veins.

She wasn't the same. She would never be the same.

She had been dead. But now she was back.

Sometimes she hated herself. What made her so special?

It was almost dark now. She'd walked around the block several times before going up to the door of her house. Her house. Not her mother's house. Her house. A single tear escaped from beneath Buffy's lashes, as she dug in her purse for her keys. She'd told Spike to lock the door. Can't be too careful, right?

Her key was poised at the lock, when it swung open.

"Buffy?"

"Spike."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Buffy put the keys on the table. "Dawnie?"

"Yeah?"

Dawn cracked her gum and hugged her sister. She hugged Buffy a lot lately. "Spike and I were just . . ." she gestured to the paused videogame on the television.

"Have you done your homework yet?"

Dawn nodded. "Yup. We've been good Buffy. Spike even helped. He knows stuff."

Buffy smirked. "Besides murder and mayhem?"

Spike's face fell, but he didn't respond.

"Bitchy much? Anyway, it was my poetry assignment. Spike's good at that too."

Buffy continued to smirk. "Yeah, I know about that . . . William."

Spike ignored her and ruffled Dawn's hair. "Well Little Bit. Must be off now. Sun's almost down." He considered Buffy, not really wanting to leave. "Did you have a nice coffee?"

"It was caffeinated. It was a beverage."

Silence.

"Right then. See you later Niblet. Nice earrings by the way."

Dawn laughed. "Mm hmmm."

Buffy shook her head and headed into the kitchen to make dinner. "You should really return them to Anya."

"This sucks!" Dawn shrieked in dismay. "You know everything now don't you?"

Buffy turned on the garbage disposal.

"Sorry she's such a bitch Spike. Anyway, see you tomorrow."

"Absolutely." Spike looked in the direction of the kitchen. "Bye Buffy. See you later? Patrol?"

No answer.

"Bye Niblet. Be good."

She laughed. "I'm always good Spike."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The noise of the Backstreet Boys blared from Dawn's room. Buffy sighed as she cleared her sister's schoolwork from the table. "Dawn, turn it down please."

Now it was Dawn's turn not to answer.

Buffy glanced at the piece of paper in her hand. Dawn's poetry assignment . . . a sonnet. Suggestions were scribbled in the margin in an unfamiliar, florid hand. Poetry was interesting. And these suggestions seemed good. "I guess the Bloody Awful Poet learned a few tricks over the years," she whispered.

Slowly she sank down in a chair, considering the old-fashioned sweep of his script. Why was she such a bitch to him? She knew with every word, with every silence she hurt him. Why did she do it?

At least he'd taken care of his hair. Wonder where vamps went to get their hair done? He made fun of Angel, but honestly Spike was just as . . .

The phone rang.

"I'll get it!" Dawn called from upstairs.

How could she even hear the phone through all that crap?

"Buffy, it's for you. He's British! Very upper-crusty."

Buffy suddenly felt tired. She picked up the phone and answered. "Hello? Yes, Quentin, I have time to talk to you."

END PART FIVE   


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	6. Chapter 6

dawn6upload.html Title: Another Dawn, Chapter 6   
Author: Sanguine   
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and 20th-Century Fox own these characters. The situations presented here come from my own twisted brain.   
Distribution: With permission.   
Rating: PG-13 for angst and language   


"Xander says we should pick something you can wear again." Anya picked up a chartreuse dress with a big bow over the butt. "How about this?" 

Willow shook her head. "No one looks good with a bow over their butt Anya. It's an unwritten law." 

Tara squeezed her lover's hand. "Or it should be." 

Anya dropped the dress. "Fine. You two gang up on me. It's not like I've ever done this before. Human mating I understand. But this wedding business is too complicated. And I don't even have a dowry. Not even one ox or cow. I don't know why Xander even wants to marry me." 

"He loves you." Buffy's eyes filled with tears. "He really loves you." Quickly she hid behind a rack of dresses. 

"Oh, I know he loves me, but marriage isn't about love. It's about money. Uniting two families to increase their wealth." Anya selected a black sheath from the rack and examined the price tag. "Hey! I actually do have some wealth! I manage the Magic Shop, right? And Xander! He earns the money from carpentry. So we are making a good financial match!" She sighed happily. "What do you think about black Buffy? You could wear it to your next funeral." 

Buffy couldn't hold back the tears any longer. 

Willow glared. "What the hell Anya. Watch what you say." 

"Oh God." Anya grew pale. "Buffy, I didn't mean . . ." 

"I'm sorry Anya. It's not you, really. I'm just a bit emotional today." 

"Y . . . y . . . you're allowed Buffy." Tara offered. "You've b . . been through a lot." 

"It's not just . . . that. Quentin Travers called me last night. They're coming to Sunnydale. They want to test me and talk to Spike." 

"Those pesky Watchers. I wish they'd all just go away . . . except Giles of course, because Giles is nice and I really miss him now he's back in England and . . . " Willow paused. "I'm babbling aren't I?" 

"I don't like the Watchers' Council any more than you do Will, but I have to let them do what they want this time." 

"W . . why? Last time you really laid down the law with them, right?" Tara asked. 

"Right. But this time if I let them have their way they'll pay all my bills . . . for the rest of my life." 

"That's blackmail!" Anya observed cheerfully. 

"Bingo. But I don't have much of a choice but to go along with it. Now I just have to convince Spike to make nice." 

Willow laughed. "I don't think you'll have any problem getting him to do anything you want." 

Buffy suddenly found the tiled floor of the shop immensely interesting. "I know. Believe me, I know." 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

She didn't come. 

For the second night in a row Buffy had skipped patrol. She was avoiding him. Stupid bint. Spike thrust the stake into the newly-risen vampire and watched as he disintegrated into satisfyingly dusty bits. Now if only a demon would come along, he'd kill it good. Yeah. His happiness would be complete then. Blood, violence, and sod-all else. Forget about the other Spike. Forget it. 

Love's bitch, that's all I am. A stupid, fucking lovesick vampire with no purpose but to moon about, hoping the Slayer throws him a fucking crumb. Well no more. No more! He swung the axe and severed the growling Vexus demon's head with a single slice. Too bloody easy. 

Spike lit a cigarette and leaned against a gravestone. So bored. "I. can't. get. no . . ." He started to sing and softly finished the phrase. "Bloody satisfaction." Furtively he looked around. Nope. All clear. He kicked a gravestone violently, breaking it in two. No respect for the dead. He grinned maniacally. "But I try." Kick boot into marble. "And I try." Slam fist into mausoleum. "And I try." Angel's head went flying off a statue. Liked that. "And I try." Then the air guitar. "I can't get no!" 

"Spike?" 

Shit. 

"Buffy." 

"What the hell were you doing?" 

"Um. Having a bit of fun." He smirked and raised an eyebrow suggestively. "You oughta try it sometime." 

Buffy reluctantly smiled and considered the cracked tombstone. "Next time leave Beloved Auntie Bertha's grave alone." 

She twirled a stake and continued to stroll through the graveyard. 

Fine, let her go. I bloody well won't lope along after her like some fanged fluffy puppy dog. 

Who the bloody hell am I kidding? 

"Buffy! Where've you been?" 

Silence. 

"I mean, you haven't been on patrol the last two nights and I was worried . . . that something might be up with Niblet, you know, not sleeping well or maybe she'd gotten into trouble in the evening's and hadn't told old Spike about it or maybe . . ." 

"The Council. They're coming to town." 

"Oh, that's all. Bunch of wankers." 

Buffy nodded. "I couldn't agree with you more Spike. But they're coming to Sunnydale whether I like it or not." She shifted her stake to the other hand. "It's not every day a Slayer comes back." Her gaze met his. "And it's not every day a vampire's responsible. They want to talk to you." 

"I bet they do." He sucked down another lungful of smoke. "Talking's fine. Prodding and poking ain't. Last time I was given a good poke," he paused and leered, "I ended up with a chip in me brain." 

Buffy sighed. "I'll be the one they're prodding and poking Spike. They want to find out what you did to me." Her voice dropped. "And why you did it." 

"None of their bloody business." 

"They're going to make it their business." 

"Whatever. I'm leaving town. Give me a ring when they're gone." 

"Spike, you don't have a phone. And if you don't help me with this I'll be in real trouble." 

"Why? You took care of the Council before." 

"But this time I need something from them." Buffy glanced away, no longer able to meet his eyes. "I need their money." 

"Didn't Joyce . . . " 

"There's barely anything left. The gallery brings in some money, but not enough. Besides, I don't know anything about art." 

"I do." 

Buffy smiled wanly. "I know you do Spike." 

"How do you know?" Then Spike remembered. "Oh, that's right. You're all knowing now, right Buffy? No more bloody secrets between us, eh?" He laughed bitterly and took another deep drag. 

"Look Spike, I'm sure you'd be very helpful, but we already have a store manager." 

"Yeah, but you have to pay him." 

"I'd have to pay you too, Spike. I don't take charity from anyone." 

He considered her closely. "'Specially not me, right?" Her eyes gave him the answer he didn't want. "Wouldn't do to be indebted to the pitiful lovesick vampire, right? Might give the poor wanker hope, right? Can't have that, right?" 

"I'm already indebted to you Spike. I owe you my life." 

"You owe me nothing Buffy." Spike made a gallant little anachronistic bow. "I absolve you from your debt. Now leave me the bloody hell alone." 

"Will you help me with the Council?" 

"Don't have much of a bloody choice do I? Don't want the Niblet to starve on the street." His eyes bore coldly into hers. "But Slayer, from here on out it's just business between us. Got it?" 

Buffy's heart sank and she scrambled for a reply that would make things better. Unfortunately she said, "Fine. It's better that way." 

Spike watched Buffy leave the graveyard. Time to get drunk. 

END PART SIX   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

dawn7upload.html Title: Another Dawn, Chapter 7   
Author: Sanguine   
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and 20th-Century Fox own these characters. The situations presented here come from my own twisted brain.   
Distribution: With permission.   
Rating: PG-13 for angst, language, sexual tension   
Feedback: Yes please!   


"You think you know. What you are, what's to come… you haven't even begun."

Dracula intoned the words seductively, causing Buffy's skin to prickle with electric excitement.

"Your power is rooted in darkness."

Spike stood behind her and ran his blunt teeth along her neck. Buffy arched her body in response, then turned to kiss him fully.

"Nothing you can do now, girl."

Doc's pitch-black eyes seemed luminescent. He placidly smiled and circled her with a knife.

Buffy woke from her dream, The Dream, sweating and discomfited. Same thing every night. She should really call Giles and tell him about it; it might be one of those prophetic Slayer dreams. But there were certain elements that she didn't feel quite ready to share. Like the part where she was playing kissy-face with Spike . . . and liking it.

"Uhhhh." Buffy looked at the alarm on her bedside table. Almost time to get up anyway. The Council meeting began at 9 am sharp at her house. Considering how determined they were to have their own little interview with a vampire, they weren't very perceptive about scheduling issues. Hello? Vamps sleep during the day you morons! She'd be lucky if Spike even managed to make it over at all without bursting into flames. Then there was their little discussion last night. Oh boy. That had gone ever so well. Willow's words mocked her: "I don't think you'll have any problem getting him to do anything you want."

Yeah right.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Buffy emerged from the shower feeling refreshed. She almost felt happy. Strange, considering everything that had happened and what she would be facing in about . . . she glanced at her alarm . . . about forty-five minutes.

Crap.

Buffy began toweling her hair more quickly and thought about breakfast and waking up Dawn. It was almost time for her sister to go to school and she hadn't heard one peep from her room.

"Dawnie!" Buffy knocked on the door to her sister's room. "Dawn! Wake up! Time to go to . . ."

The door swung open.

"Slayer."

A groggy, rather hungover vampire looked back at her. "Keep it down why don't you? 'Nough to wake the bleedin' dead."

"What are you doing here?"

"Well you told me the Council was having its meeting today, so I wanted to make sure I made it, for the Niblet's sake of course. I came over here last night."

Buffy sniffed the alcohol-laden air between them with distaste. "Was that before or after you fell into a vat of bourbon?"

"That's beside the point. Anyway, it's a good thing I did come over. Damn Council keeps banker's hours and I sure as hell don't. Niblet filled me in on the details. 'Nother good thing, seeing as you didn't tell me sod-all about our little meeting. How d'you expect me to show up Slayer, if you didn't even tell me the time?"

Buffy didn't have a response for that one. Admittedly, she hadn't been all that informative in their previous conversation, but Spike was . . . well, he'd distracted her with his obnoxiousness and . . .

Was he trying to look down her robe?

Buffy suddenly felt very unclothed. She pulled her robe tighter around her and peered into the room. "Is Dawn in there?"

"Nah. She's downstairs already. Cramming for a test or somethin'."

As if on cue, Dawn rushed up the stairs. "Buffy!" She looked uncomfortably at the vampire in her doorway. "Spike threw stones at my window last night and woke me up."

"I hope he didn't break anything."

"Give me some credit, Slayer. Unlike some people, I know my own strength."

"Fine. I have to get ready. The Council will be here in like a few minutes. You,"   
she pointed accusingly at Spike, "you take a shower, now. They won't take you seriously if you smell like a liquor store. And you," she turned to Dawn, "I want you safely at school before they get here."

Spike sneered and made a little mock salute. "You are so damn lucky that I care about the Niblet, ya know? Or there's no way I'd take this bloody treatment from you, bein' ordered about like a sodding . . ."

Buffy's eyes softened. "Please Spike, just do it."

"Bitch." He slammed the door to Dawn's room.

Dawn smirked. "That went well."

"Don't start Dawn."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

A knock at the door pierced the silence. The Council.

Buffy glanced around at the darkened room. All curtains drawn. There would be no flame-filled accidents in her living room. Good.

Drawing a deep breath to steady her nerves, Buffy opened the door and smiled confidently, even as her eyes burned from the bright morning light.

"Quentin. And . . ." Buffy looked at the familiar blonde woman with the rather severe hair.

"Lydia Higginbottom."

The unfortunately-named Ms. Higginbottom extended her hand.

"Dr. Lydia Higginbottom."

Oh, Dr. Lydia.

"Yes, we didn't meet formally last time, but of course I remember you." Buffy's eyes had begun to water. "Please come in, both of you."

Quentin Travers and Dr. Lydia Higginbottom exchanged looks and entered the darkened living room.

"Please, sit and make yourselves at home. I'll just turn on the lights so we can see each other." Buffy smiled pleasantly, although her hand shook as she flipped the switch.

"There, that's better."

Quentin scanned the now-illuminated living room. "I was hoping that William the Bloody--Spike--would be here also. We need to confirm the story of your resurrection."

Buffy looked nervously at her watch. "Spike will be here. He's just . . . "

"Just taking a bit of a shower's all." Spike sauntered down the stairs. "How nice to see both of you again, 'specially you Lydia. How've things been luv?"

Lydia, Dr. Higginbottom, blushed. "Very well thank you. I've . . ."

"Fabulous. So, what can I do for you, pet?"

"I . . . I."

Spike sat next to Lydia on the loveseat and draped his arm casually along the back. "Cat got your tongue, luv?"

"Spike," Buffy growled. "Help me make some refreshments for our guests." She rose and turned to Lydia and Quentin, smiling a forced smile. "Tea or coffee?"

"Tea," they responded simultaneously, exchanging another significant look.

"Won't be a mo'." Spike winked at Lydia and followed Buffy into the kitchen.

Buffy slammed the tea canister on the counter. "Spike! What the hell do you think you're doing? You're flirting with her!"

"We're not jealous, are we pet?"

"No! Absolutely not, it's just . . ." She turned to face him. "Look this is really, really important, not just for me but for Dawn. Please don't screw this up."

"She wrote her thesis on me, you know." Spike opened the fridge and looked inside. "Wouldn't happen to have a packet of blood? I'm famished. Didn't eat last night."

"Uhhh. Look in the back."

"Got any Weetabix?"

"No."

"Your loss."

"She wrote her thesis on you?"

"Yup. I think she fancies me. Some people find me devastatingly attractive."

"No accounting for taste," Buffy hissed as she filled the tea kettle.

Spike's eyes turned frigid blue. "Look Slayer. I'm doing you a favour. Might be able to use Lydia's little infatuation to grease the wheels a bit, that's all."

"Whatever. Just try not to get drool on that tweedy English suit of hers."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"So, what is your relationship to the Slayer?" Lydia had her elegant pen poised, ready to take notes.

"Don't have one."

"Come now. Surely you don't expect us to believe that. Why else would you, a soulless creature, want to bring back a woman, who should be your natural mortal enemy, from the dead?"

Buffy cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Milk, lemon, sugar?"

"Milk please," again Quentin and Lydia responded in unison. Were they part of the Borg?

Quentin sipped his tea. "Mr. Bloody, you didn't answer Dr. Higginbottom's question. Please respond."

Spike smirked. "I've enjoyed our fights over the years. The kicking. The punching. The groping. The fangs and fury. Nothing more appealing than a woman with power." His eyes fixed on Lydia's and he leaned forward conspiratorially, "But you see, if someone's gonna kill the Slayer, I want it to be me."

Lydia blushed again and looked down at her clipboard. "So . . . so you feel a certain possessiveness about this Slayer. But if you're so eager to kill her, why haven't you done it yet?"

"The chip."

"That's right. The Initiative." Quentin nodded. "Highly effective technology."

"Yeah, too effective."

"So you'd kill again if the chip were removed?" Lydia asked.

Buffy paused in mid-sip of her tea. Spike's demeanor was bothering her. It was so cold. So detached. She dreaded the next answer. What if he answered yes? Would the Council stake him, right then and there?

"There's no chance of that happening, so why worry 'bout it pet? This bloody thing comes with a lifetime guarantee. 'Sides, I've got a pretty nice set up here. Help the Slayer, kill a few demons, get all the free blood I can drink. Good stuff too." He took a large gulp from his coffee mug. "Not as good as the real thing, but it'll do."

"I still don't completely understand why you'd repeatedly risk your own existence for her, Mr. Bloody." Lydia shifted uncomfortably in her seat as she watched Spike lick the remnants of the blood from his lips.

"Perhaps we could discuss it more fully Lydia, over dinner? Say tonight? Might feel more forthcoming about things if she weren't here," he gestured derisively at Buffy.

Buffy's eyes shot daggers, but she remained silent.

Lydia looked at Quentin nervously. "I . . . I."

"She agrees," Quentin intoned. "She'll have an armed escort of course."

"Of course." Spike relaxed into the love seat and allowed his fingers to brush the tweed of Lydia's suit. "How about Luigi's at 8? I promise I'll have lots to tell you. Anything you want to know."

Lydia, Dr. Higginbottom, trembled. "Fine."

Quentin took a final sip of his tea and rose from the couch. "Dr. Higginbottom and I must be going, but we'll see you tomorrow Ms. Summers, at the clinic. We have a lot of tests to do."

"Poking and prodding," Buffy muttered.

"Thank you for your hospitality. Ms. Summers, Mr. Bloody." Quentin nodded and departed, a rather flustered Lydia rushing after him.

Spike watched them leave and turned to Buffy. "I think that went well, don't you?"

Buffy punched him in the nose.

"Bloody hell!"

END PART SEVEN   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	8. Chapter 8

dawn8upload.html Title: Another Dawn, Chapter 8   
Author: Sanguine   
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and 20th-Century Fox own these characters. The situations presented here come from my own twisted brain.   
Distribution: With permission.   
Rating: PG-13 for angst, language, sexual tension   
Feedback: Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to give me feedback so far. Your comments tell me that I'm on the right track with this little story. As always your comments and suggestions are welcome.   


"Slayer!" Spike clutched his sore nose. "Why the hell did you do that?"

"You deserved it."

"Did not."

"A date?" Buffy snorted. "That wasn't in our play book. What made you go all high school on Lydia?" She began to clear away the remnants of the ill-fated tea.

"Just tryin' to help you know. Doin' my bit for puppies, and Christmas, and the American way." He cocked his head and considered Buffy's stiff movements as she put their cups on a tray. She was really brassed off. Delicious. "'Sides, apparently Lydia knows a good thing when she sees it."

Buffy's eyes flared. "Apparently Dr. Higginbottom," she paused, lingering over the Watcher's ridiculous name, "is deaf, dumb, and blind." Without another word she huffed into the kitchen. Didn't he realise what was at stake here, no pun intended? Her future. Dawn's future. And Spike had absolutely no idea how to charm a woman. None. Nada. Even when he'd been human, he'd been completely clueless. William, the Bloody Awful Poet. Ha! Buffy's future flashed before her eyes: a future that included golden arches and the phrase, "Do you want fries with that?"

"I just hope he leaves the chains and the bourbon at home," she muttered, slamming the cups into the dishwasher.

Spike's elation began to fade as the Slayer's words reached his ears. Stupid bint! As if he didn't know a thing or two about pleasing women. He may have seemed a right tosser when he went after her, but that was just . . . just.

Because he cared too much.

Bloody hell, Dru liked being chained up!

"Slayer, I'm leaving."

Buffy continued to load the dishwasher. "Incinerate, see if I care."

"Look at me Buffy."

Buffy reluctantly met his gaze. His eyes were soft.

"I won't screw this up." A brittle smile crossed his lips. "Gotta keep the cash flowing for my Niblet."

"Do you need some money?"

Spike arched an eyebrow.

"For tonight I mean. Luigi's is expensive."

Guilt flickered briefly across his chiseled features, but was quickly contained. "Nah. Got it covered."

"Do you have some clothes that aren't vintage Billy Idol?"

"Slayer, I'll have you know that he ripped me off, not the other way around."

"Do you?"

"Yes."

Buffy began to wipe the already clean countertop.

God, he couldn't do this anymore. "Look Slayer, if it'll make you feel better, I'll come 'round after and give you the full report."

"That's OK." She considered him closely. "I trust you."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Niblet! What're you tryin' to do? Choke me?"

Dawn giggled as she "adjusted" his tie. "You don't breathe Spike."

"Still, that bloody well hurt." He massaged his neck.

Dawn considered her friend. He looked hot. Tousled hair, grey suit, crisp white shirt, blue tie. Lydia was lucky.

Dawn sat on a nearby sarcophagus and began to swing her legs. "She's jealous you know."

"Huh?"

"Buffy. She's really jealous."

"Nah. She's just worried 'bout me screwin' things up."

"That too. But believe me, she's jealous."

"How do you know Niblet?"

"How did I figure out you were in love with her? I notice these things Spike."

Spike stroked her hair affectionately. "Do I look OK?"

"Yup. Lydia will be a puddle of goo."

Spike's eyes glinted. "Well, won't that just be . . . neat."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"More wine luv?" Spike filled the flushed Watcher's glass again. It was her third.

Dr. Lydia Higginbottom had arrived spot on time to find a very distinguished-looking Mr. Bloody already waiting for her. Her armed guard had kept his distance, and thus far their evening had been quite pleasant although her date, ahem, her informant had proved less than informative about his relationship with the Slayer.

"So, Mr. Bloody." Lydia unconsciously ran a hand through her carefully coiffed hair. She'd left it down tonight and it fell in loose waves around her face. She'd also left her glasses at the hotel.

Spike's eyes locked with hers. "I told you pet. Call me William."

Lydia took another sip of her wine and blushed. "Very well, William. You still haven't told me about the nature of your relationship with the Slayer. I can't believe you would sacrifice so much unless you were getting something . . . um   
. . . significant in return."

Spike was saved from answering by the arrival of their entrées.

Lydia watched in amazement as Spike tore hungrily into his Shrimp Diavolo. "I've never heard of a vampire who enjoyed human food."

Spike stopped in mid bite and whispered seductively, "You'll find I enjoy many human activities."

Lydia cleared her throat, blushed for the thousandth time that evening, and took another sip of wine. "I see."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Lydia gazed blurrily at her dinner companion and took another sip of wine. He really was quite charming. And entertaining. And devastatingly attractive.

"So pet, you already know all about me. How 'bout you? How'd you get into the Watching thing?"

Lydia's words slurred slightly as she spoke. "Well, you see, I come from a long, long, long line of Watchers. And I went to Oxford and just never left. All those lovely, lovely books." She giggled.

"Fascinating. Do go on luv."

"And then I began work on my thesis, "Mating patterns of male vampires in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries."

Spike looked disappointed. "I thought you said the whole thing was about me."

"Oh it is." Lydia lowered her voice. "You were my primary case study. You're quite an unusual vampire. So devoted to your . . ."

Spike arched his eyebrow suggestively and finished her sentence, "lover?"

"Yes. I mean you stayed faithful to Drusilla for years and years and years."

Spike smiled wistfully. "Fat lot of good that did me."

"Drusilla was a fool." Lydia took another sip of wine.

Suddenly Spike felt the need for another drink as well.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Lydia rose unsteadily from her seat. "Mmmm, feeling a bit woozy."

Spike took her arm to steady her and led her out of the restaurant. Her guard followed discretely. "I don't think you should drive luv."

"Oh, Henry will drive. Henry?" Lydia called to her protector.

"Yes, Dr.?"

"Will you be a dear and get the car?" She rummaged through her purse and produced the keys. "Voila!"

"Dr. Higginbottom, I really shouldn't leave you alone with . . . Mr. Bloody."

"Tish, tosh. William and I will be perfectly fine. Won't we William?" Lydia smiled drunkenly up at Spike.

"Yes pet, we'll be fine. You know I can't hurt her Henry."

"Very well." Henry departed.

"I had a simply splendid, splendid, splendid time William." Lydia swayed towards him. "I think I know now what kind of man you are."

"What kind is that luv?"

"Scrumptious." Lydia grabbed him and kissed him passionately.

In the shadows across the street a Slayer watched. "Bastard."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Spike returned Lydia's kiss. Well he had no bloody choice did he? Couldn't very well reject the woman whose organisation was gonna pay his Slayer!

"Dr. Higginbottom!"

Henry's shocked voice interrupted them.

"Leave us alone Henry. We're busy."

"Come on Doctor. I think you've had enough," he considered Mr. Bloody with a dark glare, "excitement for one evening."

Lydia pouted. "Don't want to go."

Spike kissed her hand. "Listen pet. Best do as the man says."

"Oh, alright." Henry helped the very drunk Lydia into the car. "William, William, William, my sweet William don't forget. We have some unfinished business."

"Uh huh luv." Bloody hell! He hoped she wouldn't remember this in the morning.

END PART EIGHT   
  



	9. Chapter 9

dawn8upload.html Title: Another Dawn, Chapter 9   
Author: Sanguine   
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and 20th-Century Fox own these characters. The situations presented here come from my own twisted brain.   
Distribution: With permission.   
Rating: PG-13   
Feedback: Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to give me feedback so far. Your comments tell me that I'm on the right track with this little story. As always your comments and suggestions are welcome.   


"So Will, whatcha doing?"

Buffy paced nervously around her friend's room. "Working on anything good?"

Willow sighed. "I'm just doing some research on Doc. Or trying to anyway. This book is telling me nothing. You said you heard his voice right before you came back?"

"Uh huh."

Buffy opened the mini-fridge and spied a plate of buffalo wings covered by a flimsy piece of Saran Wrap. They didn't look the freshest, but . . .

"You want these Will?"

"Nah," Willow shook her head distractedly. "You have them."

"Thanks." Buffy began gnawing on a wing. "Mmmm. Spicy."

"Yeah." Willow considered her friend. "OK Buffy. What's wrong?"

"Wrong? Nothing's wrong."

"You know Denial ain't just a river in Egypt."

"Why would anything be wrong?"

Willow laughed tonelessly. "Let's see. You come back from the dead. You have all the memories of a sister-shaped mystical key thingy. You also got up-close and personal with the psyche of a soulless vamp who tried to kill you but suddenly decided hey!--he loves you instead. To top it off, you drank his and Dawnie's blood--can I just say ewww here? Plus there's the weirdness of Doc, a nasty little demon who went all apocalypsy on you. And now you've got the Council in town. So I could kinda see how a lot could be wrong."

Buffy suddenly seemed very immersed in her buffalo wings.

"So how did it go today? With the Council's physicians I mean?"

"Well, they took some blood. Poked and prodded. Checked my reflexes. Had me fight. The usual stuff."

"And . . ."

"And they want me and Spike to meet them tonight to discuss their findings."

"Well, no wonder you're stressed sweetie!"

"I'm kind of afraid what they're going to tell me. What if I'm not normal?"

"Buffy, you've never been normal. Vampire Slayer? Remember?" Willow put her arm around her friend.

"I hope Spike didn't screw things up."

"Why would he do that Buffy? He cares about you and Dawn. He knows you guys need the money."

Buffy bit viciously into another wing. "Remember that blonde watcher, Lydia Higginbottom?"

"Vaguely."

"Well apparently Dr. Higginbottom wrote her thesis on Spike. They went out last night. Spike said it was 'to grease the wheels' . . . whatever that means." Buffy paused and tore another scrap of meat from the helpless wing. "He was greasing more than wheels last night."

"Buffy, what do you mean?" Willow observed her friend closely.

"I saw them Will. He was kissing her outside the restaurant."

Willow smirked. "Spike, you devil."

"What?"

"Nothing Buffy. So why are you so upset? Sounds like Spike is moving on. Besides, he's doing you a favour, right? Helping you get into the Council's good graces, avoiding any ooky questions about why he's been helping you. Seems like it's all to the good."

"I suppose. But the lips of Spike? That's just blech! Who would want to kiss him anyway?"

"Who indeed?" Willow was having a hard time suppressing the urge to laugh.

"Plus, a vampire with a Watcher? That's even more perverse than . . ."

"A vampire with a Slayer, right?"

"Right!" Buffy licked the spicy sauce from her fingers. "Got any hot chocolate Will?"

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Slayer."

"Vampire."

Silence.

Buffy stood by the door of the small white room where Spike, draped nonchalantly over a hideous orange chair, had already made himself comfortable.

"Who decorates waiting rooms anyway?"

"Must be a sadist." The vinyl creaked as Spike shifted his weight.

Silence. Were those crickets chirping? Buffy took a bright green seat next to Spike.

"So Spike, did you have fun last night on your date?" Buffy examined the cuticles of her nails. Time for another manicure.

Spike picked at the remnants of black polish on his left thumb. "Yeah. Lydia's an alright bird." He cleared his throat and scanned the room. "Wonder if she's gonna be here?"

"Nervous Spike?"

"Nah." Spike attempted smirking bravado. "Course not."

"Of course you wouldn't be nervous. She obviously liked you. After all, you were making out with her last night." Buffy opened a five-month old issue of People magazine and angrily flipped a page.

"Hey, how do you . . . " Spike's voice raised several decibels. "Wait a minute! Slayer, you were spying on me!"

"I was not." Buffy violently flipped another page. Catherine Zeta-Jones and that old guy had a baby. Would wonders never cease? "I was just on patrol, and I happened . . ."

"Oh yeah. Vamps really hang around Luigi's. It's their kinda place."

"You're a vamp and you were there."

"That's different."

"Is not."

"Is too."

Quentin Travers appeared in the doorway to the examination room and sighed. "Please come in. Both of you."

Buffy dropped the dog-eared magazine and flounced past Spike.

"Bloody women."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

A very self-conscious Dr. Lydia Higginbottom stood with her clipboard at the back of the room, documenting the proceedings. Her pale skin looked a bit jaundiced and dark circles rimmed her bespectacled eyes.

Furtively Spike glanced at the watcher. Definitely hungover. Suddenly the generic abstract art on the wall above her head was absolutely fascinating. Wonder if it's computer generated? Or maybe the artist just was really good at drawing straight lines? Or maybe . . .

"We have the results of our inquiry." Quentin Travers cleared his throat. "Please sit." He motioned to a pair of austere leather chairs. "We have some rather interesting news for both of you."

Spike withdrew his smokes. "I'm dying for a fag mate. You mind?"

"As a matter of fact, Mr. Bloody, I do. Put them away." Travers was all business.

"Right." Spike's hand shook slightly as he slid the packet into his pocket. "So what's the news?"

"It's really quite remarkable. Dr. Higginbottom and I have consulted all of our available resources, and in the history of the Council, we've never seen anything like it. Ms. Summers is truly unique."

Spike snorted. 'You can say that again."

"Perhaps if I speak slowly and show you pictures you will be able to understand the ramifications of your actions, Mr. Bloody."

"No need to be testy, Mr. Travers."

"Spike," Buffy hissed. "Be quiet."

Spike looked chastened. She was right. Not the time for witty rejoinders.

Traver's hooked his laptop into a projector. "Here, Mr. Bloody. Pay close attention."

A microscopic view of something appeared.

"This is a slide of vampire's blood. And this . . ." Another slide appeared next to the original. "This is a slide of Ms. Summers' blood."

"No," Buffy whispered. "It can't be true."

Spike's heart sank. He did this to her, his Slayer, his Buffy.

"We don't have a name for what you are Ms. Summers, but it's an abomination." He paused and glared at Spike. Lydia cringed, but continued taking notes. "Almost as great an abomination as a vampire in love with a Slayer."

END PART NINE   
  
  
  
  
  



	10. Chapter 10

dawn10upload.html Title: Another Dawn, Chapter 10   
Author: Sanguine   
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and 20th-Century Fox own these characters. The situations presented here come from my own twisted brain.   
Distribution: With permission.   
Rating: PG-13   
Feedback: Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to give me feedback so far. Your comments tell me that I'm on the right track with this little story. As always your comments and suggestions are welcome.   
  


Without thinking, Buffy grasped Spike's arm. Suddenly she felt weak.

Spike looked directly at the British watcher. "Right. Say it's true. Say I love her. Makes no difference to you lot. Just means I'm fighting on your side."

Lydia blushed and bit her lip.

"Seems to me that's not the important part. What's important is the other tidbit of news you dropped in our laps just now. What the bloody hell do you mean Buffy's an abomination? She seems OK to me. Doesn't matter one jot what her blood type is."

Quentin Travers considered the vampire and the Slayer with suspicion. "We don't like being lied to, Mr. Bloody. And both you and Ms. Summers deliberately tried to deceive us about your motivations--your selfish motivations -- for bringing her back."

"Wait just a bleeding . . . "

"Silence." Travers shot an icy glare at the vampire. "Your actions have grave consequences. How can we trust a Slayer that has that," he gestured imperiously at the offending slide, "running through her veins?"

"O please, Travers! If you prick her, she bleeds, right? Come off it mate! She's still there. Her soul's still there. She still fights the good fight, no thanks to you lot. I didn't see you figuring out ways to bring her back when the Hellmouth was going straight to hell. Every nasty was coming here for a big demon jamboree and her sister, the sister she'd died to save, was the main entrée at their little buffet."

"Yes, yes, we know all about her sister, the Key, that almost destroyed the world." Travers glared at Buffy. "Not that either one of you were terribly forthcoming. Luckily, we have other sources. In any case Ms. Summers, that night you neglected your birthright, your duty. You chose emotion over reason. How do we know you won't do the same again, particularly now you've been contaminated by the blood of a demon?"

Buffy slammed her fist down, shattering Travers' laptop. She didn't feel weak anymore. "For your information, Quentin, it's not the first time I've been contaminated. Dracula came to town last year and I had a little blood tasting then too. It didn't hurt me. In fact, it let me see things more clearly. You know, Drac told me something interesting. He said there was darkness in me. Spike here sees it too. So maybe, MAYBE, you're afraid that I'm too much like the enemy. I kill, just like them, right? I hunt, just like them. I enjoy it, just like them. But you're forgetting, there is a crucial difference, Quentin. I've worked for five, FIVE, goddamn years, getting up everyday, slaying, sacrificing my normal life, any chance of being a normal girl and why? Because it's my birthright. Oh, I understand duty all right. But my duty doesn't extend to killing my sister. And you know what? I saved the world, so you have no right to lecture me about anything."

Buffy took a step closer to Quentin. "You see, Quentin, I STILL have the power. Things haven't changed. I can either let you in on the action or not. You can either pay me, or not. Either way, I'll still be the good little Slayer. But don't EVER imply again that I don't take my duty seriously. You have no idea what I've given up to be here. I gave up peace."

Spike's heart wrenched.

"So what do you say, Quentin? Are we friends again?"

Quentin Travers ground his teeth together and reluctantly smiled. "As always, Ms. Summers, you know just what to say. We accept your terms. In exchange for continued, accurate reports to the Council, you will be paid. But before you leave, we need to tell you some information about your condition . . .

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Whap!

Spike considered the Slayer as she executed a perfect roundhouse kick, decapitating the vampire with a single blow from her daintily-clad foot. How had he not noticed this? Oh, that's right. They hadn't really been on patrol together since she'd been . . . back. She'd stood him up.

Buffy staked two newly-risen vamps without even looking. Impressive. Spike wasn't mad at her anymore. He felt something else altogether.

"So pet, enjoying those new powers of yours?"

Buffy smiled and answered, slightly out of breath. "This is fun Spike. More powers, more slayage, less risk. And they're paying me! It's all good."

"Couldn't agree more, luv." He raised one eyebrow in appreciation.

She continued to smile and met his eyes. "I haven't felt this . . . happy in a long time. Before I died I was worrying about my mom, then about Dawnie, then about you, then about Glory. And when I came back everything was just so weird. I had all these memories, some not-so-nice memories," she paused and Spike looked down guiltily. "It was a lot to deal with. Plus, I was wondering why the sun hurt my eyes, wondering why the slaying was so easy. And now I know. It's kind of a relief."

"Well, you've always been a freak," Spike teased.

"Takes one to know one."

Suddenly Spike didn't feel like teasing anymore. "Listen Buffy, I have to tell you something."

Buffy shook her head, "Spike it's not your fault this happened. You don't have to apologise. I needed to come back. It wasn't my time yet. Besides, in my line of work it's nice to be difficult to kill. Only stakes, fire, and decapitation . . . "

"No, luv, that's not what I wanted to say."

"Oh."

"It can't be easy knowing all the things you know about me, about my past. But you should also know exactly how I feel about you and the Niblet, and that I would never do anything to hurt you."

Buffy took Spike's hand. "Spike, I know. And I'm sorry I was so cold to you. You didn't deserve it." Chastely, she kissed him on the cheek.

Spike began to tremble. Her name escaped from his lips. "Buffy."

Buffy squeezed his hand and released it. Another vamp had just risen from the ground, and it was her job, her duty, to slay it.

Spike watched her, wanting to hold her, wanting so much . . . He shook his head and lit a cigarette with shaking hands. "I don't deserve you, luv."

A dark figure observed the scene from behind a twisted oak. "You're right, vampire. And I still have to send the lady your regrets." He considered the Slayer. "Soon, Buffy Summers. Very soon." Doc left the graveyard whistling. He'd always liked Prokofiev.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Hey guys, we're back!" Buffy unlocked the door and held it open for Spike. "Dawnie!"

"Buffy!" Her little sister bounded down the stairs. "How did it go?"

"Yeah, Buff. Tell us everything. Did you kick Quentin's ass? Did you tell him about all the field time I've clocked?" Xander winked.

"I certainly hope you didn't mention that I was a powerful-ex demon again. You can't be too careful, you know. Honey," Anya tugged on Xander's sleeve, "should I make more muffins, just in case?"

Xander smiled indulgently. "Anya, I don't think your cooking will help."

"So Buffy," Willow turned to her friend, "spill."

"It went really well. I put that nasty Quentin in his place, he agreed to pay me, and I got some interesting information."

Tara took Willow's hand. "R-really? W-what's that?"

"I'm an abomination."

"You're a what?" Tara's normally placid features contorted with disbelief.

"I have vampire blood coursing through my veins, with a little Dawnie mixed in for good measure."

Five faces gaped back at her. Spike looked amused.

"Apparently, it makes me pretty darned invincible. Cool, huh?"

"What! Buffy, this is horrible! That would make you a monster just like . . ."

"Like me, right Harris?" Spike shot an angry look at the boy.

"Listen, I know it's hard to understand, but I'm still the same old Buffy. I just have a few perks from communing with the undead."

Spike winced at her flippantly chosen words. Xander glared.

"I'll need to buy some good sunglasses, but it's an OK tradeoff. I get increased strength and heightened senses. And I'm still soulful."

Willow sat down heavily on the sofa. "How is this possible?"

Buffy shrugged. "I don't know. The Council doesn't know either. But we think it might have something to do with the properties of Dawn's blood." She hugged her sister. "It's pretty special."

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Every demon within a fifty-mile radius thinks so too."

Buffy laughed. "Well, that's why I came back, to take care of that nasty hellmouthy demon infestation. And thanks to you and Spike, I have some new tricks up my sleeve."

Xander shook his head. "You're taking this awfully well Buffy."

Buffy shrugged. "Xander, I've come back from the dead. This is nothing." Her voice lowered. "Besides, it's better knowing. The uncertainty, the worry . . . it was horrible."

"I get that Buffy." Xander looked sadly at her. "But now you've gone so far beyond me, how can I possibly help you? I mean, Will and Tara are witches, Anya's got all this ex-demon knowledge, and Spike . . . well, Spike is Spike. Even Dawnie's got the magic key thing going on. What can I do to help? Use my amazing carpentry skills to make really effective stakes?"

"Oh Xander!" Buffy hugged her friend. "You're my heart."

"Can I puke now?" Spike gagged.

Anya forced a smile and whispered, "I let them do that."   


END PART TEN   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	11. Chapter 11

dawn11upload.html Title: Another Dawn, Chapter 11   
Author: Sanguine   
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and 20th-Century Fox own these characters. The situations presented here come from my own twisted brain.   
Distribution: With permission.   
Rating: PG-13   
Feedback: Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to give me feedback so far. Your comments tell me that I'm on the right track with this little story. As always your comments and suggestions are welcome.   


"Dr. Higginbottom, what is your assessment of your subject?" 

Lydia's pulse raced. She must be professional. Her unfortunate lapse the other night was just that: a lapse. It's well known that vampires have seductive powers to lure their victims. That's all it w. . . 

"Dr. Higginbottom, do you think he's telling the truth?" 

"Mr. Travers, I have no way of assessing William the Bloody's ability to tell the truth. I do know that he was a vicious killer for many years, although the killing does seem to have stopped recently. He thrived on violence and mayhem; in fact, he still does. He's just channeled his destructive tendencies in another direction. But there's no guarantee that he will continue to be our ally if the chip were removed. And there's no guarantee that his," Lydia blushed, "current affection for Ms. Summers will be constant. What if Ms. Summers were to reject him, once and for all? Would he still feel the need to fight the forces of darkness? I think not." The title of chapter three of her thesis flashed at her accusingly. "Monogamy and Vampiric Sexual Behaviour: Drusilla the Mad and William the Bloody". Lydia was lying, but what was the old saying? "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorn'd"? Unfortunately, the fury didn't make the guilt disappear. Unlike William the Bloody, she had a soul. 

"I concur with your assessment Dr. Higginbottom. As usual, you are quite insightful about Mr. Bloody." Quentin Travers took a sip of tea. Tea, such a civilised beverage. Calming. And after seeing Ms. Summers' test results and losing a very expensive piece of computer equipment, Travers needed something to calm him. Tea would suffice for the moment, although a good Scotch would be nice. But he would abstain; he needed to have a clear head. "Now about the Summers' situation." 

Dr. Higginbottom nodded and consulted her notes. "You didn't tell her everything, Mr. Travers." 

"I know. It was necessary. It might have affected her performance or hastened her . . . descent if she knew." 

"I agree. It's better that she doesn't know the potential consequences of her condition. We need her to fight for us as long as she can. After all, another Slayer will not be called." 

Travers sighed. "Yes, the Faith problem. If anything . . . unfortunate happens to Ms. Summers, we may have to deal with her." He took a final sip of his tea, draining his cup. "Dr. Higginbottom, as you know, I must return to England. But I agree that you should stay here to observe Ms. Summers, Mr. Bloody, and the rest of her friends. We cannot be too careful. Of course, if you see anything unusual, you must report back to me posthaste." 

"Naturally, Mr. Travers. I will happily be the Council's eyes and ears." 

"Very good, Dr. Higginbottom." Travers smiled wryly. "Care for a nightcap? We probably both need one." 

The thought of alcohol made Lydia nauseous. "No thank you Mr. Travers. I would like to peruse my notes, organise my thoughts. However, I do appreciate the offer." 

"Very well, Dr. Higginbottom. I bid you good night." 

Lydia read her notes until tears blurred her vision. It was so very sad. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

_Watcher's Diaries, vol. XX, series 3: 1660-1700_

_23 April 1661_

_Today was a day for great Rejoycing; for now our Lord and Soveraigne King, Charles II,rules our Fair Isle. I fervently Hope that ye Unrest that has lately Marr'd our countries complexion, might be over, and that Peace and Prosperity will once again be England's Handmaides._

_My dear Slayer was resplendent in her Coronation Gowne. Even ye Monarch noticed her exceptionall Beauty and Charm, although in soothe, he noticed many of his Female Subjects this day. Another also Favour'd her with admiring glances. I do not yet know his Name, but I will ask Pepys. Although a Slayer may not be married, perhaps she may find some little Happiness while she lives._

_J. Spencer_

_++_

_1 July 1661_

_Pepys tells me his name is Reggio. He's of Italian extraction. As a Rule I do not place much Faith in the Character of those from ye warmer nations. They are Irrational and Hot-blouded, and in Amorous Matters tend towards Jealousie._

_My Slayer has been Training, and although her long Gowns hinder her progress, she has become quite expert with ye Crossbow. She has threatened to take up ye current Playhouse style and dress in Breeches. While it may be Practickall, such a costume would do little for her Reputation. I have discouraged this Idea greatly, as only Actresses and Courtesans dress in such a Lascivious manner._

_J. Spencer_

_++_

_24 December 1661_

_It is almost Christmas and in spite of our Good King's povertie and the rebellious Spirits in the Land, we celebrate with all the Vigourand Merryment deny'd us under the cruell Reigne of Cromwell and his Sonne. The Dancing and Revells were quite good, as was the wine. Much better than Pepys' sack!_

_My Slayer receiv'd a practicall gift from me: new Arrowes for her Crossbow and her much desir'd Breeches. Proprietie is superceded by Expediencie. The Forces of Darkness are gathering, and my Slayer must be able to fight them without impediment._

_My Slayer gave me a newwe Diurnall for my scribblings, which pleas'd me muchly._

_J. Spencer_

_++_

_3 June 1662_

_I have been much Deceiv'd by this Manne, if I can call him suche, Reggio. He is a Beast of the worst kinde. He has corrupted my Slayer in the most grievous Fashione. I saw her, drinking his Bloud. An abomination! Altho' he had not sampled her, completing his darke taske, I neverthelesse ran him threw mightily. He became the dust which he by all things naturall and goode should have been many decades before. My Slayer is resting, but the harlote shall never regaine my trust. I have been too soft in my treatment of the girle._

_J. Spencer_

_++_

_5 November 1662_

_Tonight Guido Fawkes was burn'd againe in Effigie. On this night my Slayer died. Altho' I am now marked as Murtherer, I knowe I did my Dutie well. She did not Worke for the forces of light, but had fallen into perpetuall Darkness. The Demon bloud Boyled within her untill there was nothing left and she turn'd upon the one who Lov'd her truest and Beste: her faithfull Watcher. Whosoever finds this record, forgive me my Death and Pray for my Soule. Self-murther is Sinne, but Life is harsher torture than Eternall Fire._

_J. Spencer_

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

"I'm worried about Buffy. Something just doesn't seem right." 

Xander Harris ran a hand through his freshly-cut hair. Anya had dragged him to the barber, muttering about shaggy dogs and weddings. His hair felt strange. He'd liked it long. Made him feel more bohemian and not so much like a boring construction worker. 

Willow nodded and shoved another cookie in her mouth. She was upset so she made cookies. So what if it was past midnight? After the impromptu Scooby meeting at Buffy's house, they had all departed, bemused and concerned, and by common consent continued the meeting sans Slayer at Xander and Anya's apartment. Shortly after their arrival, Willow had taken over the kitchen. 

Willow swallowed a big bite of comforting chocolately goodness and answered her newly shorn friend. "I totally agree Xander. Buffy was kind of like Stepford Buffy. She didn't seem sufficiently wigged about the abomination thing." 

Anya smiled and took another cookie. "These are really good Willow, but if I keep eating them, I will be a fat bride." 

"Don't think you need to worry hun." Xander squeezed Anya's shoulder. 

Anya noshed happily on her cookie. "You know, maybe Buffy was just tired of being upset. She couldn't take being unhappy anymore, so she just decided to be happy. . . Oooh! I just got a walnut! Xander, are nuts an aphrodisiac?" 

Tara laughed softly. "The nuts don't work for me personally, but who knows?" 

Willow looked fondly at the blonde witch and winked. "Anya, go back to the part before the nuts. What did you say about Buffy being tired of being upset?" 

"Well, I mean Buffy's gone through so much. Her mother dying, her sister being a Key, losing her boyfriend Riley . . . and she probably hasn't had sex since he left so that can't be helping . . ." 

"Focus Anya . . ." Willow was beginning to lose patience. 

"I just meant that she's gone through a lot, and maybe she's just too tired to react to her abomination status. Besides, it sounds like a pretty excellent deal to me. All of the powers, none of the evil! I'd be happy too. Sometimes it's nice having powers." 

"Wouldn't know, dear. And I have to say, I'm pretty grateful you're not a vengeance demon anymore. I mean, I wouldn't like my parts to fall off every time we got in a fight." 

"Oh Xander, I wouldn't do that to you! I'd just be punishing myself!" 

Xander looked slightly embarrassed, but he kissed her anyway. At least her mouth would be busy. 

Willow rolled her eyes. "Getting back to Buffy . . . you know Anya, I think you may be right. Maybe she's really OK." 

"Let's hope so." Tara grabbed the last cookie and shot a significant glance at Willow. "But I think we should keep an eye on her, just in case we think she needs . . . " 

"Extra help?" Xander laughed bitterly. "You know, in spite of Buffy telling me I'm her 'heart' I still feel like the buttmonkey. I've been thinking. I've been hanging out with the Slayer for five years now, and even though I've clocked all this field time, I've never really done any training. I just don't want to be a liability to Buffy." 

"Oh Xander, you're not that. You help." Willow opened the oven door and took out the next batch of cookies. 

"Yeah, how?" 

Willow slid the gooey cookies onto a plate and brought it into the living area. "Well, the thing you did with the wrecking ball was pretty neat." 

"Yeah, but I still get my ass kicked on a regular basis, and maybe it's time to do something about it." 

"Nothing that will be painful or hurtful to your body I hope?" Anya's brow furrowed with concern. She didn't like the sound of this. It was bad enough that her boyfriend--her fiancé--wanted to hang out with the Slayer all the time, fighting evil and risking his life. Now he was getting ambitious. This did not bode well. 

"Nah, I was just thinking of getting Buffy to teach me a few self-defense moves. Maybe Spike could help too." 

Bits of cookie flew from Willow's mouth "Oh God!" she shrieked and began to laugh uncontrollably, "I never thought I'd hear those words from Xander Harris!" 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

"Slayerrr." 

The word was a soft whisper, almost a purr. 

"Slayer." 

His lips traced their way down her neck. 

She shivered. 

"What should I do, Slayer?" 

She felt blunt teeth graze her neck. She looked into his eyes. So blue. So dangerous. So gentle. 

"Take me." 

"As you wish, pet." 

Spike's fangs broke her skin, and she felt her life draining into his mouth. It was not unpleasant. Not unpleasant at all. 

Knock, knock, knock. 

What was that? 

Again, knock, knock, knock. 

Buffy jolted out of sleep, breathing hard and grasping her neck. Wildly she looked around for Spike. Thank God. She looked at her hand. No, her hand was clean. No blood. 

Knock, knock, knock. 

She'd fallen asleep on the couch. Time? 1am. Who would be knocking on her door at 1am? 

Spike. 

She didn't want to see Spike. Not right now. 

Buffy drew a shaky breath and opened the door anyway. 

It wasn't Spike. 

A tall dark haired woman stood before her, her face full of anxiety and anticipation. "Are you the Slayer?" She had an Eastern European accent. 

Buffy knew this woman. The woman from Prague. Her stomach sank. With a shaking voice she answered. "Yes." 

"My name is Lena Petrovich. I have come very far to find you." 

Buffy nodded, but could not speak. 

"I am looking for the vampire, William the Bloody. I must find him." Lena Petrovich paused and tried to compose herself but her efforts were in vain. Her shoulders shook and she struggled for breath. "I am sorry to greet you like this, but you see . . . " 

Buffy knew what was coming. She wanted to run. She didn't want to hear this. 

" . . . he killed my family." 

END PART ELEVEN   



	12. Chapter 12

dawn12upload.html Title: Another Dawn, Chapter 12   
Author: Sanguine   
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and 20th-Century Fox own these characters. The situations presented here come from my own twisted brain.   
Distribution: With permission.   
Rating: PG-13   
Feedback: Yes! Please!!!   
Notes: I post this with sincere apologies to Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Thanks to JodithGrace for naming William's sister Amanda. I've stolen that for two stories now!!   


"Spike, can I have her? Miss Edith wants a tea party."

"Not yet, pet."

Where the bloody hell was she? Nice digs. Trust Dru to cause trouble. At least we might get a bit of cash. Better check the ropes. Let's pat the old woman's hand. Give her a thrill.

"So luv, when's your daughter coming home?"

Pfftt! Course they can't answer you, you bloody pillock!

"Sorry 'bout that, can't answer me if I've got you gagged, can you?"

Try the woman. You've got a way with women, Spike old mate.

"So pet, just let me know, and maybe I'll let you go. If I take this gag off and you scream, I'll snap your neck before you need to take a breath. Got it?"

Understanding . . . good.

"Talk!"

"She's home soon. She have money, lots of money. I promise. She can give to you, yes? Then you let us go?"

"She's lying. The stars are sparkling and twinkling and beating out her lies."

Dru likes pain. Hope the woman doesn't mind scars.

"Please."

Don't plead. Don't wanna hear it. Time to put the gag on. Now stop looking at me.

Dru's stomach. She won't wait.

"Spike I'm hungry. Can't we eat now? I've already had my crumpets. I want dessert!"

Dammit! Dru got me into this sodding mess. What the hell was she thinking, finding the fucking head of an organised crime family and his wife?

"Listen Dru, I want to get something out of this besides the meal. We need funds, pet. Just be patient. Wait for the daughter, we'll get our money, and you'll have your tea."

That's right, play with your dolly, pet. Can't stay mad at my princess for long.

"Oooh, my boy."

Mmmm. This is nice. Let's put the doll down now.

The door.

The daughter.

MMMM. Don't want to . . . What the? Amanda?

"O God."

Can't kill her. But Dru can.

"You've come to play with us?"

"No, I . . ."

BIrd speaks English. Real scared. Alright Spike. Not gonna bollocks this one up. Remember the cash mate.

"Glad you could join us, pet. Have a seat."

Better tie her up.

"And don't think about screaming luv, cause if you do, I'll kill them."

What's wrong? My hands . . . Pull it together. Dru sees. She knows. Bloody hell.

Snap.

Bloody hell, the girl's screaming now. Smack. Hit her hard.

"Be. Quiet."

Dru. Drinking already. Couldn't wait, could you? Now it's all gone to hell. She's gonna kill both of them, then the girl. I'm getting soft. Pitiful. Oh well. Untie her.

"Get out. Go."

What? Don't wanna leave? Oh, it's your . . .

Snap.

Not anymore.

Shrug. Smile.

"Sorry. These things happen."

"You will pay for this."

She means it. Gotta hand it to her. Most girls would be hysterical after seein' all that. "We'll be leaving now, pet."

Grab Dru's hand.

"Sorry 'bout the mess. C'mon Dru. We've overstayed our welcome."

Jump out the window. Good, it's not too far. Sun's down. Didn't really feel like being a torch.

Run. Fast.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The memories--Spike's memories--flooded Buffy's mind as Lena told the horrible story. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she was forced to remember what Spike had been. What could she say to this woman who had lost everything?

"I'm so sorry."

"You see, I must kill him."

Buffy ignored her declaration. "So you were the ones who . . . hurt Drusilla?"

"Yes, my family has some very . . . significant . . . connections. Nevertheless, they were not completely successful. She escaped with her life, but at least her powers were diminished."

Buffy nodded. "When I first met her, she was pretty sick. Sicker than usual, I mean. Unfortunately, she's back to her old self again."

"I have not been able to locate her. Do you know where she is?"

"I have no idea. Last time I saw her . . . well let's just say it was under less than pleasant circumstances. I don't think she'll be coming back to town anytime soon."

Lena considered Buffy. "You will help me kill him?"

Buffy took her hand. "Lena, I know you can't begin to understand what I'm going to tell you, but . . ."

"She can't kill him."

"Dawn?"

Lena faced the young girl, eyes blazing. "Who are you?"

"I'm Spike's friend."

"You're a friend of that monster? I don't believe it."

"Dawn, go to bed. This doesn't concern you."

"I think it does." Dawn had heard voices and had been eavesdropping for the past few minutes. A handy habit she'd picked up when everyone was trying to hide her keyness. "I didn't hear the whole thing, but I know Spike did something bad to you. But he's not like that anymore. He hasn't been able to hurt anyone for a long time. He's got a chip. And he's protected me and taken care of me and I know he's done horrible things, but he's really changed."

Lena's face drained of colour. "How can you say that? Things like him don't change. He is evil. He helped kill my parents."

Dawn felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach. She'd missed that part.

Buffy put her arm around Lena. "If he'd done that to me, I'd want to kill him too."

"Buffy!" Dawn shot a panicked look at her sister.

"Dawn, can you imagine how you'd feel about Spike if he'd contributed to our mother's death?" Dawn's face turned ashen, and she sank down onto the stairs. "Lena deserves more than our words. She deserves to face him. And Spike needs to face her." Impetuously she gave her sister a hug.

Dawn nodded. "I just can't believe he did that."

"I can. I have his memories Dawn. For you it's easy to forget what he was. Even I forget sometimes."

Buffy sighed. This was going to be a long night. "Come on Lena. I'll take you to him. But there's one condition. I won't let you kill him."

Lena looked incredulously at Buffy. "What kind of Slayer are you? You befriend that which you should kill?"

Buffy smiled wanly. "You don't know the half of it."

Buffy and Lena stepped outside.

Dawn watched the door close and began to cry.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

_How do I love thee? Let me count the ways._

One, two, three, four. Infinity.

_I love thee to the depth_

Yeah baby, I can get pretty low.

_and breadth and height_   
_My soul can reach,_

Well, don't have a soul, but what the hell!

_when feeling out of sight_

That's what the glasses are for, mate. Ha!

_For the ends of Being and ideal Grace._   
_I love thee to the level of everyday's_   
_Most quiet need, by sun_

Not by sun! No bloody way!

_and candlelight._

Much better. Candles. Romance. Potential shagging.

_I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;_

I've never done much of that striving for right business, but hey, you're reforming me.

_I love thee purely,_

As if. Not bloody likely.

_as they turn from Praise._

I always like a bit of Praise myself. Especially if it involves,   
well . . .

_I love thee with the passion put to use_   
_In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith._   
_I love thee with a love I seemed to lose_   
_With my lost saints, --I love thee with the breath,_

Don't have much of that, being undead and all.

_Smiles, tears, of all my life! --and, if God choose,_

Don't think God really cares about me that much.

_I shall but love thee better after death._

I do you know.

Spike adjusted his reading glasses and turned the page. He had felt positively giddy when he'd left the Summers' home that evening. His Slayer had more and better powers to keep her and the Niblet nice and safe. He'd said he loved her and she hadn't punched him. And she'd kissed him! Sure it was only on the cheek but hey, it was a start, and her not playing kick the Spike was definitely progress, well, from a certain perspective anyway and . . .

Now he was reading poetry. Next thing you know he'd be writing the bloody stuff again. God, he was turning into a wanker. Reading Browning. Sad William. Really sad.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Buffy? Knocking? Since when? Hmmm. Maybe she'd decided to come and do some serious snogging. Yeah, her resistance was crumbling. He could sense it.

Eagerly he made his way to the door.

"Buffy!" he smiled.

"Spike?" Buffy looked puzzled.

Oh, the glasses. Quickly Spike removed them, embarrassed. "Was just doing a bit of reading and . . ."

"Nevermind. It's not important." Buffy's voice was flat. She was upset.

Then he saw her.

That bird from Prague. Bloody hell.

END PART TWELVE.   
  
  
  



	13. Chapter 13

dawn13upload.html Title: Another Dawn, Chapter 13   
Author: Sanguine   
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and 20th-Century Fox own these characters. The situations presented here come from my own twisted brain.   
Distribution: With permission.   
Rating: PG-13   
Feedback: Yes! Please!!!   
Notes: Who said 13 is an unlucky number? If you like S/B, you'll like this installment.   


Spike's good mood evaporated. Buffy was obviously not paying a social call. 

"You beast!" Before Buffy could stop her, Lena rushed at the vampire, fists flailing with hysterical abandon. She wanted to destroy him. She wanted him dead. Unfortunately, the Slayer had confiscated her arsenal of stakes before they'd entered the crypt, so all she had were her hands. They would have to do. 

Spike stood there, slightly amused, as her punches rained down on his chest. Then she landed one on his nose. 

"Ow! You been taking lessons from the Slayer?" 

"You . . . killed . . . my . . . family," Lena choked, gagged by the pain of years of despair. 

Bloody hell! As if he could undo it, bring them back! The Slayer had ambushed him with this. Angrily he grasped Lena's wrists, forcing her to stop her attack. His icy blue eyes met her soft liquid brown ones and he felt something, a twinge of regret? "Technically, pet, Dru killed them." 

"But you were there." Lena struggled against his grip, trying to escape. "You didn't stop her." 

Spike shrugged as he released her, and lit a cigarette. "Look, luv. I didn't even want to be there in the first place. Killing your parents caused us nothing but trouble. Besides, your family got their revenge. You almost killed Dru." 

"The life of an undead monster in exchange for the lives of my parents? It does not seem a fair trade." 

"Can't disagree with you. But I loved her, so what you lot did to her made me suffer. You got me, good and proper. There. Feel better?" Spike exhaled the smoke from his lungs in a defiant burst. 

"The only thing that will make me feel better is to see you dead." 

Spike raised his eyebrows and considered the silent Buffy. "Best consult with the Slayer. She's in charge of that sort of thing." 

"I've told her not to kill you, Spike. I've told her about the chip." 

A mirthless laugh erupted from behind the smoldering cigarette. "So Buffy, not in the business of slaying monsters anymore? You know what I did. I expect you know all the gory and delicious details. So why am I not feeling dusty?" 

"Because you're not like that anymore." 

"Are you sure?" Spike grabbed Lena and held her to him, his blunt teeth poised precariously above her neck. Lena's eyes filled with equal measures of hatred and fear. "Have your attention now, don't I Slayer? Isn't this what you're afraid of?" Spike's game face slipped into place, his eyes glowing a feral yellow. 

"No." Buffy forced her voice to be calm. "Stop this Spike." 

"Why? I'm a soulless monster right? Isn't that why you brought her here? To make me pay for what I did?" 

"You should pay," Lena spat. She turned to Buffy accusingly. "Look at him. He is a monster. You must kill him. It's your duty." 

"I thought Lena had a right to face you. But this was obviously a mistake." 

"Because I'm EVIL, right?" 

"We all can be evil, Spike. We all make choices. You made some horrible ones. But you're not a monster . . . not anymore." Buffy took a step towards him. "Now stop this." 

Spike's human features slipped into place. He released Lena and sank down in his battered old chair. "I'm sorry." 

The words were obscured as Lena slapped him soundly across the face. 

"Lena. It's OK." Buffy reached for the distraught woman and tried to comfort her as best she could. 

Spike lit another cigarette and felt his stinging cheek. Why was it all so bloody difficult? It was easier being a monster. At least he felt powerful, in control. How the hell was he supposed to do this? He cleared his throat and said it again, louder this time. "I'm sorry." 

Lena looked at him, shaking with rage. "You're sorry? That makes no difference." 

"I know it doesn't." Spike paused. "You know why I didn't kill you, why I tried to let you go?" 

Lena didn't answer. 

"You look like someone I knew a long time ago. You look like my sister, Amanda." Spike smiled ruefully. "I've always been a sentimental bastard." 

"Is that supposed to ease my pain? You disgust me." 

"Fair enough. Don't blame you for hating me. Just thought you deserved the explanation." 

Lena turned to Buffy. "Can we please go now?" 

Buffy sighed. Why had she thought this was a good idea? "OK, let's go." She considered the vampire slumped in the chair. "Spike, I'll be by later. We need to have a talk." 

The door of the crypt slammed behind the two women. 

Spike found a mostly full bottle of whisky in a dusty corner of the crypt and took a healthy swig. He wanted to be unconscious by the time the Slayer returned. Oblivion sounded mighty attractive. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

After composing herself over a cup of tea at the Slayer's house, Lena Petrovich declined her invitation to spend the night and went outside to her car. At least she knew where the monster lived. This wasn't over. William the Bloody would pay. 

Rap, rap, rap. 

Lena turned to see a familiar small man at her car window. She pressed the unlock button. 

"Doctor Black. Why are you here? It is very late." 

The small man smiled and opened the car door. "I just wanted to see how things went. So, did you talk to the Slayer?" 

"Yes. Thank you for giving me her address." 

"And was she helpful?" 

Lena sighed. "Not particularly. She certainly did not live up to her name." 

"Wouldn't kill him, huh? That's a shame." 

"She took me to him though. I know where he lives. I am certain that I will be able to find someone else to help me complete the task." 

"I think I may be able to help you with that." Doc--Doctor Black-- smiled and wrote down an address. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

3:45am. It had been a long night. Finding out she was an "abomination." Patrolling with Spike. Telling the Scoobies. And then Lena. That had gone poorly. Next time she would leave the intervention stuff to the professionals. 

But one good thing had come of it. She realised how terrified Spike was. Everything he had been for over a hundred years was falling away. And why? 

Because of her. 

"I'm drowning in you Summers . . . I know this is wrong." 

His words haunted her. It was wrong for him to love her. 

And yet he did. 

It was against his nature to feel remorse. 

And yet he did. 

Whenever Buffy considered the conundrum that was Spike the same question always arose. 

If Spike could love her without a soul, why couldn't Angelus? 

Angel. 

Did he even know she was back? She'd avoided thinking about him and had made no effort to contact him. Was it really fair of her, letting him think she was still gone? But she'd been so preoccupied and Angel was just one more complication. 

He really should know. 

Tomorrow. I'll call him tomorrow. 

Buffy stopped outside Spike's crypt and drew a deep breath. Let's deal with one vampire at a time. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

"Slayerr." 

A blurry-eyed Spike swayed in the doorway. 

Buffy rolled her eyes as the alcohol fumes assaulted her nose. "Spike, you really need to find a healthier way of dealing with your problems." 

"Like talking?" He wove his way unsteadily to his chair and sat down, draining the last drops from his whiskey bottle. 

"Yes. Like talking." 

"Great luv. What do you want to talk about?" 

"You." 

"Figured as much. Wanna drink? I think I still have . . ." 

"No Spike. And you don't need one either. Listen to me." 

"My, aren't we bossy . . ." 

"Spike. Stop." 

"If you give me the whole 'I'm very disappointed in you young man' speech, I'm gonna puke." 

Buffy shook her head. "Spike you don't understand. I know you. I can't be disappointed, because I know what you are . . . who you are." 

"Yeah, you know all my nasty deeds and how much I enjoyed them." He licked his lips and shot her a predatory look. 

"Spike, you've always been so annoyingly perceptive about me and my friends, so how about I return the favour? A little analysis of Spike?" 

"Oooh. I'm waiting with bated breath." Spike clenched his fists, wanting to fight, wanting to run. 

"Once upon a time there was a man named William." 

"Can't you think of a better way to start your story Slayer?" 

"Shut up, William." 

Spike shut up. 

"He was a sensitive man, but no one understood him, not that he made much of an effort to be understood. He lived in his own little world, a world that violence couldn't touch. A world of poems and tea parties and impossible love." 

Spike clenched his fists even harder, drawing blood. 

"There was one woman in particular, Cecily, that he'd loved from afar. It was easier loving someone from afar because then he didn't have to deal with the messy stuff. The real stuff. But one day he decided to tell her. He wrote a poem. It was bad, but it was sincere. Then his so-called friends stole it from him and laughed at him. Did he stand up for himself and tell them to go to hell? No. Instead he cornered Cecily and spilled his guts. He wanted her to really see him. And how did she respond? 'You're beneath me.' So William ran away. Always the outsider. Never fitting in, right?" 

"That's enough, Slayer." 

"I'm not finished, Spike." 

"I think you are." 

"No." Buffy pushed him back in his chair. "It's time for you to listen, to know what I see. Because Spike, unlike Cecily, I really do see you." 

"And I'm beneath you, right?" Spike muttered under his breath. 

"What?" 

"Nothing. I'm all ears, Slayer. Fill me with your stunning insights. Enlighten me." 

"William ran away and met a woman, a dark-haired woman that . . . how did you put it . . . saved you from mediocrity. You wanted it. You wanted her. She accepted you, or so you thought. So you killed for her. She wanted to you to be bad, as bad as Angelus, so you killed and maimed. You changed everything. Your hair, your accent, your personality. You hated William, so you became Spike. Dru could love Spike--he killed Slayers. Angelus could almost respect Spike, but you were never quite bad enough for him, were you? You could never quite live up to his standards. Or live down to them." 

Spike looked at her impassively even as blood seeped from the half-moon-shaped, self-inflicted wounds on his hands. 

"So even within your little undead gang, you were the misfit. Why did Dru eventually leave you? Oh, yeah. She said you'd gone soft. And she knew that you loved me, even before you did." Buffy drew a breath and pressed on. This next part was the hardest. This next part was about her. "But let's back up a little. I don't want to skip over some of the best parts of the story. The parts where you were trying to kill me." 

Spike winced. He really needed another drink. 

"So, when you first came to town and saw me, God, you wanted to kill me. And, how would you say it, 'shag' me. You watched me dance and thought that I would make a great addition to your dead Slayer collection. Dru would be proud of her boy, right?" 

Spike nodded. 

"Right. So you tried and failed. And tried and failed. It was getting kind of pathetic, you know? Then I put you in a wheelchair. You hated that. The lack of power. It made you feel like William all over again. Then Dru started sleeping with Angelus. That sent you over the edge. But no matter what you did, Dru still didn't want you. You weren't her first choice. Poor William. Never the first choice." 

"Are you finished?" Spike's voice was murderously calm. 

"I'm getting there. Eventually you came back to Sunnydale with Harmony the Airhead. She was good in bed though, so I guess I can kind of see it. But Harmony? Spike, that was kind of low, even for you. And you didn't exactly treat her well. I have to hand it to you though. You're amazingly faithful. Two women in over a hundred years? I've slept with more people than you!" 

"I'm not easy, pet," Spike hissed. 

"I'm ignoring that. No, really, Spike, it's impressive. It shows the level of devotion you're capable of. Anyway, after getting chipped and making some more lame-ass attempts on my life and the lives of my friends, you decide you love me. So you try to get my attention by helping out, not asking for money, getting new clothes. And hey, when that didn't work, you and your ex-girlfriend decide it's fun time with the cattle prod." 

"Let's cut to the chase, Slayer. I'm getting bored here." 

"Fine. Anyway, words don't matter, actions do. That's what William never learned. He'd never done anything to earn Cecily's respect, her love. But you have done something. You didn't give up Dawn to Glory. You brought me back from the dead, not because you missed me, not for selfish reasons, but because you wanted to protect Dawn. With those actions, you proved yourself a better man than William ever was." 

Spike's eyes filled with hope. "Buffy. I . . ." 

"Spike. I know you love me. You've proved that. I know it's hard for you to be good, but I'll help you. I choose to help you." 

"Oh God. Buffy." Spike drew her into his arms, crushing her tightly to him. 

"Spike!" Buffy gasped. "Cutting off the circulation here." 

Spike loosened his grip and considered her, his Slayer, his Buffy. Without thinking, he moved to kiss her. 

The rational part of Buffy wanted to pull away, but another, stronger part of Buffy was incapable of moving. This was a mistake. She hadn't meant . . . mmmmm. His lips erased all that nasty rationality from her mind. Bad Buffy. Bad. 

Spike began to tremble as he dragged his lips across the curve of her neck, feeling her fluttering pulse. This couldn't be real. 

"Spike," Buffy tried to disentangle herself from the quivering vampire. "Spike." 

Buffy broke free, breathing hard. 

"I'm sorry, Spike. This isn't fair to you, but . . ." 

"Uhhhh." Spike groaned. "I knew it." 

"I can't do this." 

"Why the hell not?" 

"Because, you may know how you feel about me, but I'm still confused. And until I figure out what I feel, I can't, we can't, well, do what we just did." 

"Are you trying to kill me, Slayer? Are the stakes too quick now? You want to torture me?" 

Buffy smiled. "No, it's just that you deserve to be my first choice. And if this happens, I want you to know that there's no one else." 

"Angel." Spike said the name tonelessly. "It's always that poofter, getting in the way." 

"He doesn't even know I'm back Spike. I have to tell him." 

"Fine. Go. Tell Angel. But Slayer . . ." 

Suddenly he was behind her, and she felt his lips on her neck as he spoke. 

"I'm willing to wait. I've got the time." 

END PART THIRTEEN   
  
  
  



	14. Chapter 14

dawn14upload.html Title: Another Dawn, Chapter 14   
Author: Sanguine   
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and 20th-Century Fox own these characters. The situations presented here come from my own twisted brain.   
Distribution: With permission.   
Rating: PG-13   
Feedback: Yes! Please!!!   
Notes: Thanks to Barb and Fenchurch for their suggestions. You made this a better chapter.   


Angel waited for Cordelia as she tried on yet another dress. This woman loved clothes more than . . . well, more than almost anything.

He considered her fondly as she burst from the dressing room, spinning and smiling.

"So, what do you think?"

"It's very nice."

"Nice?" Cordy pouted. "I was hoping for stunning, brilliant, absolutely yummy." She looked at him suspiciously. "You're NOT brooding again. 'Cause if you are, you can just stop it right now, Mister! I'll have none of that on my shopping trip."

Angel smiled wanly.

"You ARE brooding again! OK. That's it. There will be no brooding. There will only be fun and shopping and you buying me things on your credit card." Cordy shot him a coy look. "What's your credit limit again?"

Angel couldn't help but smile. He smiled so rarely these days. Not that he'd ever been much for smiling, but since . . .

Right. No brooding. He smiled even wider, almost too wide.

"OK, Angel. That's enough with the smiling. It's getting kinda creepy."

Angel's trenchcoat began to ring.

"Angel, your cell phone. When will you learn to use that thing?" Cordy rolled her eyes and muttered to herself as she returned to the dressing room.

"Hello?"

"Angel?"

"B-B-Buffy?"

"Yes."

The phone slid from his hands.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Darkest Magick. The witches weren't exactly subtle with the labeling! But there was some really cool stuff here. It didn't seem all that dark. More fuzzy gray really. Like this! Oooh. Nifty protection spell. Follows the protectee around like an invisible shield. And if any big nasty tries to break through . . . zap! They're dead. Of course if anyone else tries to touch the protectee they're kinda dead too, but maybe the spell can be modified? Worth a try. It would help keep Dawnie safe when Buffy was busy with other stuff.

Buffy.

It was still weird having her back. Tara wasn't exactly pleased with the tampering with nature thing. But sometimes you have to do what you have to do! No new Slayer had been called and the Hellmouth was really getting out of control. And so what if Buffy isn't exactly the same Buffy? She's stronger, right? She can kick even more demon ass!

Why does that not make it feel OK?

Because Tara doesn't think it's OK.

Tara's wrong!

Cookies sound really good all of a sudden.

But first, I'll just write down the ingredients for this . . .

What the? Hey now! Stop that flipping! I'm not doing that!

The Hand of Thanatos.

Hmmm. What's this? The caster can suck the life force from any creature within a 20-yard radius. Now that could come in handy! No pun intended!

Willow laughed and scribbled down the ingredients for the spell. She didn't see the small man with black eyes peering through her dorm room window. He smiled approvingly at the witch. "That girl has real potential."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Kill da wabbit, kill da wabbit."

Anya stared, transfixed by the cartoon on television. This was the most horrible thing she'd ever seen, but at least that little bald man had enough sense to know the enemy. "Yes, you should kill him! He's a horrible and disgusting creature with an annoyingly nasal voice."

Xander checked his hair in the mirror and picked up his toolbelt. "Talking to the cartoons again? What did I tell you about that Anya?" He chuckled and kissed her affectionately.

"You said it was strange but endearing."

"And indeed it is." He kissed her again, this time more passionately. Maybe he could be a little late for work . . .

His pleasant thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Don't answer it, Xander." Anya turned off Elmer and Bugs and took the toolbelt from him. "We didn't have sex last night, so just ignore the door."

Reluctantly Xander pulled away. "As tempting as it is honey, I should really get that."

Anya pouted. "Very well. But don't expect me to just fall into your arms later. I may not be in the mood."

"Only in some weird alternate non-sex having universe." Xander smirked and opened the door.

A tall woman with dark hair and dark eyes looked at him expectantly.   
"Are you Xander Harris?"

"Yes."

"I heard you might be able to help me."

"With what?" Xander considered her suspiciously. What was she selling?

"With William the Bloody. With Spike."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Buffy, I . . . I." Angel stammered into the phone and then stated the obvious. "You were dead."

Buffy laughed softly. "Yeah, I know, but I'm feeling much better now, thanks to Will and Dawnie and . . . Spike."

"Spike? What does he have to do with it?" Angel's face twisted with hatred at the sound of the blonde vampire's name. Last time he'd seen him, torture had been involved. To say he loathed Spike was an understatement. And Angel was sure the feeling was mutual.

"Spike brought me back. It's kind of complicated to explain, but it needed to be him because he's undead and soulless. And there was the blood thing."

"OK, hold on a minute." Angel's voice raised in anger, causing the other patrons in the store to look at him with derision. Quickly he walked towards the exit. "Spike," he hissed, trying to keep his temper in check, "Spike, who hired a pedophilic vampire to torture me? Spike, who tried to kill you more times than I can count? Is this the Spike you're talking about?"

"Well, not exactly. He's changed, Angel."

"Buffy, he can't be trusted."

"Yes he can. And I do. Trust him I mean." For a moment, Buffy considered telling Angel everything. How she had Spike's memories, why she knew she could trust him. No, that would just make things worse. "Look, the purpose of this call wasn't to fight about Spike. It was to let you know that I'm back. I thought you should know."

"When did this happen?"

"A few weeks ago."

"And you only now thought to call me?"

"No. I thought about calling you every day. But I didn't know what to say. I was just so tired, Angel. It took me a while to recover. To get my head on straight."

Angel swallowed hard. Since she'd died the pain had been excruciating. He'd felt as if his purpose for existing was gone. Everything he'd done had been for her, so someday MAYBE they might be together. After she died, it didn't seem worth it. The only thing that kept him sane was Cordy's teasing. And now Buffy just casually calls him to tell him she's back? He could hear it in her voice.

He was losing her.

He couldn't blame her. She was so young when they'd met. Just a kid really. Didn't know anything about the world.

And now she did. She knew how precious her time was. She could be gone tomorrow. Just like that. If he was careful and avoided stakes and sunlight he had all of eternity before him. Could he really expect her to put her life on hold, to just patiently wait for his Shanshu? He didn't even know when that would be. Prophecies didn't run on a strict timetable.

"Angel? Are you still there?"

"Yeah. I'm still here. Buffy, you know I'll always be here."

"I know."   
  
"I'm glad you called me."

"Angel, I had to tell you. I . . . You know how much you mean to me."

"I do." He could hear her holding back tears.

"Well, I should go now. Dawnie's going to be home from school soon."

"It was nice to hear your voice again. But Buffy, before you hang up, promise me one thing."

"What's that Angel?"

"Stay away from Spike."

"Angel . . ."

"No, just listen to me. Hear me out. When Willow came to tell me you'd . . . died . . . she told me about Spike and the chip. She told me what he'd done for you and Dawn." Angel sighed heavily. "She told me that he says he loves you. But believe me when I tell you that he can't be trusted. I've known Spike a long time and one thing about him is pretty consistent: he's a killer. He may think he loves you, but soulless demons don't really know what love is. I've seen his brand of love. I saw him with Drusilla. It was pretty twisted, Buffy."

"You're not being entirely truthful, and you know it, Angel." Buffy's voice was eerily calm.

"OK, so maybe he did love Drusilla, genuinely love her, but that doesn't make him good. How can you reconcile being a Slayer and being friends with a demon who has slaughtered thousands of people?"

"I was more than friends with you, and you did everything Spike did and worse."

"But I'm trying to make amends."

"And you have help; you have a soul. Spike has nothing but his desire to be a better man. I'd rather help him be good than just let him crash land in Evilsville again. Besides," she laughed, trying to lighten the mood, "he was a pest when he was trying to be bad."

"And why does he suddenly want to be this 'better man' Buffy? It's just to get into your pants." Angel was furious. This really was beyond belief. Buffy was defending the little bastard.

To his shock, he heard more laughter.

"Yeah Angel, at first that was why he was doing it. But now? Angel, Spike would die for me. He's proved that more than once. And if he's dust he couldn't really get much action, could he? He'd die for Dawn too. He loves her. And I can guarantee he doesn't want her."

"OK, don't believe me. But don't bother to call me when it all goes to hell, when that chip comes out. Because eventually it won't work anymore. Then you'll really see what a great guy Spike is. Consider yourself warned." Angel clicked the green button on his cell. Why wasn't it hanging up? Oh, it's the goddamn RED button.

Buffy's mouth gaped as she heard the dial tone on the other end. Angrily, she wiped a tear from her eye. "That bastard can still make me cry."

END PART FOURTEEN   
  
  
  
  
  



	15. Chapter 15

dawn15upload.html Title: Another Dawn, Chapter 15   
Author: Sanguine   
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and 20th-Century Fox own these characters. The situations presented here come from my own twisted brain.   
Distribution: With permission.   
Rating: PG-13   
Feedback: Yes! Please!!!   
Notes: Thanks to the Redemptionista Writers workshop for their suggestions. You made this a better chapter.   


"I am sorry to hear that, but Spike doesn't do that sort of thing anymore." Anya smiled a little too cheerfully at her guest, Lena Petrovich. "Would you like another muffin? I made them fresh this morning. Xander really enjoys my muffins." Anya found the notion that past sins could come back to haunt you profoundly unsettling. She just hoped that none of the men she had . . . injured . . . had investigative skills.

"No." Lena shook her head. "No muffins. I am not hungry."

Xander's eyes filled with sympathy. He knew first-hand what it felt like to lose someone to the soul-challenged and undead. "So what did Buffy say about this?"

"She took me to see William the Bloody. They argued and the vampire attacked me. She did nothing to assist me. And I could do nothing to defend myself as she took my weapons from me before we visited the beast."

"That doesn't sound like Buffy." Xander's brow furrowed. "That doesn't sound like the new-and-improved Spike either."

"He did attack me. His demon emerged and he grabbed me violently. He then asked the Slayer if she was 'afraid.'"

"What did Buffy do?"

"She told him to stop it."

"Did he?"

"Yes."

"Then what happened?"

"We left. She let the creature go." Lena's eyes filled with anger as she remembered the Slayer's betrayal. "Please, Mr. Harris, help me."

Xander shook his head. "Buffy explained about Chips Ahoy, right? The thing stuck in his head?"

Lena nodded tentatively. Buffy had mentioned something about a chip.

"Spike didn't seriously want to hurt you--just being his usual soulless self. If he tried to bite you for real? Hello, Excedrin! Trust me, Spike's neutered. That's why helping you . . . if we killed him, it would feel too much like . . ."

" . . .Murder?" Anya finished his sentence. "Another muffin, honey?"

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Spike tried to sleep after Buffy left, but his drink-addled brain was in maximum overdrive. Her lips. So soft. Her neck. Her pulse fluttering nervously just underneath the surface. Her scent. The slightly salty taste of her skin.

"Uhhhhhh."

Sexual frustration was a many-splendoured thing, mate.

Try and think of something else.

Lena Petrovich. Actually felt sorry for her. Go figure.

OK, starting to feel sleepy now . . .

Then it hit him.

He had attacked her.

No migraine.

Had he really wanted to harm her or was he just bluffing? He had been so angry with Buffy that he couldn't remember.

When was the last time he'd tested the chip?

He couldn't remember that either.

What if it wasn't working?

Spike's mouth began to water. Human blood. Fresh. Not the stuff from Willy. Not the pig's blood from the butcher. The real, hot, succulent human stuff. Rich, coppery, flowing into his mouth, over his tongue, flowing gently from an exposed neck.

Unbidden, his game face appeared. Angrily, he shook it off. Right, Spike. Find a human. Hit him. See if it hurts.

Or he could find a human. Grab him. Sink his fangs deep into his neck. See if he could feed.

It's daylight now. Can't do anything.

Just have to wait.

But wait for what? If the chip didn't work anymore, it was over with Buffy. She'd never trust him to be good. She would stake him.

Right?

Spike sighed an unnecessary sigh and gave up on sleep.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Buffy cleaned. When Buffy was upset during daylight hours, that's what she did. Imposing order on chaos. In this case the chaos was represented by the mold growing on the grout of her bathroom. Must. Be. Obliterated. Viciously she sprayed the Tilex on the offending spores. Vigorously she scrubbed. But she still felt horrible.

The conversation with Angel had gone poorly. As usual he made her cry.

She knew that he wouldn't be able to leave it alone. He would come to Sunnydale. And she would have to face him. And then she would have to face what she felt for him.

Or didn't feel.

Things had changed. She had changed.

She loved Angel and always would. But maybe it was time to move on. Then why was it so hard?

The words of the First Slayer came back to her: "Risk the pain."

That's why. Because relationships are painful. And risky. Sometimes it's easier holding on to a fairy-tale fantasy than having something real, something messy.

Like Spike.

The situation with Spike was definitely messy. What did she feel for Spike? That was the million-dollar question.

Buffy began to scrub the sink, attacking the porcelain.

Lust. Definitely lust. She really needed to get over that bad boy thing. What had her mother told her? Bad boys are fun, but they usually aren't in it for the long haul.

But Spike would be. He was with Drusilla the wacko for over a hundred years. That took patience. If he could make that work then . . .

There is the whole psychopathic killer thing. Is he just a serial killer in a cage, or has he really changed? What if the chip came out? He wouldn't kill Dawn or me, but would he kill Xander?   
OK, probably not, even if he wanted to. But would he kill some homeless guy that wouldn't be missed? Could I be with someone like that? Could I accept all that just because he has razor-sharp cheekbones, and azure blue eyes that melt when he looks at me, and soft lips and . . .

"Uhhhhhh."

This is of the bad.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Sunset.

OK, Spike. What are you going to do? It's D-day.

What if I just found a homeless guy, someone who wouldn't be missed? See if I could take a little nip? I wouldn't kill him. Just a taste.

Spike felt his demon clamouring inside him, tempting him.

Right.

Spike left the crypt.

He didn't notice the blonde woman following him.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Lena Petrovich sat in her hotel room and contemplated her plan of action. She was beyond feeling.

She had started to get over the death of her parents. Then the phone call had come. Someone claiming to know where the killer was. Doctor Black. He had been so helpful . . .

All the pain came rushing back. She could not let it go. She wanted revenge. Maybe the Slayer and Xander Harris wouldn't help her. But she still had Doctor Black.

Calmly, she dialed his number.

"Hello?"

"It's Lena Petrovich."

"Lena! How did things go with Xander Harris? Will he help you?"

"No. He refused. I do not know what to do."

"You may not have to do anything. The situation may take care of itself."

"What do you mean?"

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Buffy should be out on patrol by now. He'd just drop by and see the Niblet. He could talk to her about what to do. She wouldn't want him dead if the chip wasn't working.

Would she?

Spike walked past a darkened alleyway. If he took the alley, then he could get to Buffy and Dawn's house more quickly. It's just a shortcut.

Quickly he walked down the alleyway.

"Spare some change?"

A small, jaundiced looking man dressed in tattered clothing raised a styrofoam cup. "Hey buddy, got some change for a sandwich?"

Spike looked at the man. He had to know.

"I don't have any change, mate. But I may have something else for you."

The man looked in horror as a demon appeared before him.

"Nooooooo!"

Spike clamped a hand over the man's mouth and plunged his fangs into his neck.

No pain.

The blood flowed over his teeth, filling him with strength, filling him with power. So good.

Buffy.

He was a monster after all.

Buffy.

Suddenly the blood tasted rancid. Diseased. Stale alcohol. His teeth became blunt and the demon receded.

Spike considered the unconscious man and then walked swiftly away.

Lydia Higginbottom watched from the shadows. Her heart sank as she put her infrared camera away. She'd thought that he was different.

The Slayer needed to know. She needed to know everything.

END PART FIFTEEN   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	16. Chapter 16

dawn16upload.html Title: Another Dawn, Chapter 16   
Author: Sanguine   
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and 20th-Century Fox own these characters. The situations presented here come from my own twisted brain.   
Distribution: With permission.   
Rating: PG-13   
Feedback: Yes! Please!!!   
Notes: Thanks again to the Redemptionista Writers' workshop for their suggestions. You made this a better chapter.   


Stupid, Spike. Really stupid. Stupid sodding fuck-up. He slammed his fist into a wall. It hurt, but he deserved much worse. What he deserved was a stake through the heart.

How could he have thought for one bloody second that he was good enough for the likes of her?

"Why should you pretend to be something you're not, Spike?" Great, now he was talking to himself. Bloody pathetic! His boot smashed into a trash can, revealing a cowering young girl about Dawn's age.

He could have her. No one was around. That's what he fucking did! "I'm a vampire."

The girl's eyes grew wide, as she heard the strange man claim to be a vampire. Her hungry stomach growled, piercing the darkness. Self-consciously she placed a hand over it and gave the man a frightened, wavering half-smile. The guy was obviously crazy.

Spike's eyes briefly flashed yellow. Same age as Niblet. Not as pretty though.

His eyes returned to blue.

He wasn't hungry any more.

Suddenly, he felt very sick.

He leaned against the wall and vomited.

The girl saw her chance, and ran quickly away.

Spike wiped blood and spittle from his mouth. Have to get to Niblet.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Damn."

"Honey, where are you?"

The ward Willow had put up to alert her when Tara was coming hadn't worked. Quickly, Willow tried to stash the book but . . .

Too late.

"What's that, sweetie?"

"Nothing."

Tara's chin quivered. "You're hiding something, Will. You can tell me."

Slowly, Willow withdrew the book from behind her back.

Darkest Magick.

"I was just, you know, looking for something to help Buffy and . . ."

Tara's normally placid countenance flushed with anguish.

"I told you about what this book d-d-did to me--did to my life--and you still can't put it away?"

"But I wasn't . . ."

"Willow, I don't care about your explanations. You know how I feel about this. I confided in you. Why won't you believe me? This stuff is bad."

"But, but it doesn't seem bad." Willow smiled nervously. "Maybe it just turned bad because, you know, you were all grieve-y and sad. I'm not grieve-y and sad."

Tara shook her head. "You really don't get it, do you?"

"Oh, I get it." Willow's pixie-ish features twisted in indignation. "You only see black and white, Tara. No shades of gray for you! But you're wrong! This can help people. It-it might help keep Dawn and Buffy alive." Angrily she gestured to the book. "And if the spells I'm finding in here can do that, if it they can stop the next Glory from coming our way and destroying our lives, I really don't see the problem."

"No, you don't, do you?" A tear slid down Tara's cheek as she picked up her bag. "I have to go. I-I c-can't be here right now." Her shoulders convulsed with sobs as she left the dorm room.

"Tara, wait!"

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang . . .

The door swung open.

"God, Spike. Give it a rest." Dawn considered the wild-eyed vampire and a kernel of fear formed in the pit of her stomach. Dark images from Lena's story filled her head.

But Spike wasn't like that anymore.

"Can I come in, Niblet?"

"Sure. Why so formal all of a sudden?"

Spike began to shake.

"The chip, Niblet. It doesn't work."

Unconsciously, Dawn took a few steps back.

Spike could smell the fear on her. His face fell.

"Niblet--oh, God, not you--I'd never . . ."

There were tears in his eyes.

Dawn softened. Quickly, she suppressed the terror bubbling up inside her and tried to keep her voice level. "Spike, it's OK. Come in."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Spike sat at the kitchen table with Dawn and took another sip of his hot cocoa. Little Bit was trying to mother him. Joyce. How many times had he sat at this table with Joyce? She always had a cuppa ready.

A faint smile flitted across his face at the memory.

"Promise me you won't tell Buffy." Dawn's voice filled with something approaching panic.

"OK, Niblet, I promise."

"Spike, she might get so scared that she'll kill you, and I don't think . . ."

"Dawn, maybe my time's up. I've had a good run. Better than most. Maybe I deserve it . . . a good staking from your sis. I'd rather it be her than some two bit vamp or a demon on a vengeance mission. It has to be Buffy."

"But can't you promise to be good? I mean, you've been good for so long and it's not just the chip."

"Niblet, every day when I had the chip I thought about it, you know? Not the killing, not that anymore. But the blood." He paused. "I'm a predator."

"Maybe you are. But you have a choice, Spike. We all do. I could go out and kill someone tomorrow. But I don't."

"But it's not in your nature. It's what I am."

"Maybe it's in everyone's nature, if they're pushed far enough." She laughed ruefully. "Besides, it's in my nature to be a swirly key thingy that opens hell on earth. You don't see me running around, bleeding everywhere, opening portals and stuff."

"OK, Niblet. You've made your point."

"Buffy loves you."

"Huh?" Spike's eyebrow rose quizzically. "That's some non-sequitur, Niblet. Come again?"

"Buffy loves you."

"Not bloody likely," Spike hissed. "You gone daft?"

"Remember, Spike. I know stuff. I figured out that you loved her. And now I know that Buffy loves you."

Spike flashed back to his last--exchange--with Buffy in the crypt. Mmmm. That had been quite pleasant. "I'll admit that your sis might find me attractive, but she's still hung up on that stupid ponce, Angel. She told me as much."

"She's scared, Spike."

"Aren't we all?" Spike laughed bitterly.

"Could you do it? If you knew for sure you had a chance with Buffy? Could you promise to be good?"

Spike considered the melted marshmallows at the bottom of his mug. "You remember when you found me and told me that you had a way to bring Buffy back?"

Dawn nodded.

"And I said that Buffy was my soul?"

"Yes."

"It's true, you know. When I drank from that bloke in the alley, I could see was what I was doing--through her eyes. It made me sick."

Dawn put her hand over his. "Spike, I think you're a good man. Now you just have to start thinking it."

"Niblet . . ."

"Getting all vampy in alleyways won't help though. You've gotta cut that out, William." Her eyes twinkled, but there was a serious edge to her voice. "And if you screw up again, next time I'll tell Buffy myself. This is your one and only chance, Spike."

Spike's mouth twisted into something approaching a smile. "You drive a hard bargain, Niblet."

"Or I could just tell her that you were making out with Dr. Higginbottom. Then she'd really kick your ass."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Where was Spike?

Buffy twirled her stake and scanned the cemetery for the peroxided vamp. She'd tried his crypt, she'd looked for him in his usual creepy haunts, but no Spike.

"Guess I'm on my own tonight."

Nonchalantly, she dusted two lurking vamps. Bo-ring! Having the über-Slayer powers kind of took the fun out of it.

What she needed was a real opponent. Something big, and strong, and . . .

Oooh. Something like that!

A large, scaly demon approached Buffy. Its horns dripped a nasty, smelly rust-coloured slime. An opening in the middle of its face, a grotesque parody of a mouth, grinned. "Slayer."

"Slayee."

She really needed to work on her banter. She'd been slipping lately.

Her sensible Slayer boot connected with its head. It didn't pop off! Good. She actually might break a sweat!

"Rrrrraaaaah!"

Spike leapt in, tackling the creature.

"Hey." Thwack. "No fair." Thud. "This one's," Buffy delivered a final decapitating blow, "mine."

"Very nice, Slayer. You made short work of that." Spike smiled nervously.

He's nervous! He's cute when he's nervous. Why is he nervous? Probably because of the kissing and . . . .

His mouth does look awfully yummy.

Bad, Buffy. Bad.

"So, any other big nasties about? Or are you finished for the night?"

Buffy looked at her new outfit, now covered with rust-coloured slime. "I think it's time to go home and wash off the demon goo."

Spike stared intently at his shoes. "Right then. I'll be off. See you tomorrow, Buffy."

"Spike?"

"Yeah."

"I talked to Angel."

Spike continued to study his shoes. "Uh-huh. So what did the prancing poof have to say?"

"He was glad I was back, of course. But mostly he was angry about you helping me. He told me to be careful." Buffy stepped closer to Spike, her body just barely touching his. "So Spike," she lowered her voice to a whisper, "do I need to be careful?"

Two dark eyes watched from the bushes. "Oh God, she loves him."

"Yes." Firmly, Spike pushed Buffy away. "You do, pet."

Spike broke into a fast walk. He couldn't lie. Not to Buffy. But he'd promised Niblet. Had to get away.

In his haste, Spike brushed against a nearby shrub.

Angel smelled it. "The bastard's been feeding."

END PART SIXTEEN   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	17. Chapter 17

dawn17upload.html Title: Another Dawn, Chapter 17   
Author: Sanguine   
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and 20th-Century Fox own these characters. The situations presented here come from my own twisted brain.   
Distribution: With permission.   
Rating: PG-13   
Feedback: Yes! Please!!!   
Notes: Special thanks to Andrea for your suggestion about how to cut the sap-factor.   
  


Buffy watched in disbelief as Spike left the graveyard. What had she done? He seemed totally--embarrassed. But this was SPIKE. It's not like the sexy talk ever bothered Spike before. 

"Do I need to be careful?" 

"Yes. You do, pet." 

The chip. 

Buffy's face crumpled. It must be the chip. 

Suddenly, she felt a hand on her arm. 

"Ms. Summers, don't go after him yet. I need to speak with you." 

Buffy gazed into the bespectacled face of Lydia Higginbottom. "I already know." 

"You know part of the story. Now it's time to learn the rest." Lydia considered their surroundings with a shiver. "Is there somewhere more hospitable we can go?" 

"My house." Even to her own ears, the words sounded strange and toneless. Flat. "We can go to my house." 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

Back and forth. 

Back and forth. 

Back and forth. 

Spike paced his crypt, cursing the solid marble walls. His fists were bloodied from his occasional attempts to break them. 

"Stupid git, Spike. Didn't make her suspicious at all. Stupid," Bash. "sodding," Slam. "pathetic," Crunch. "wanker." 

Spike considered his handiwork. Very little was left intact. That's how he felt inside too. Very little was left intact. 

Spike sank down in one of his few unscathed possessions--his beat-up old chair. "Buffy." 

Applause? 

"Feel better, boy?" 

Angelus. Angel. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

Lydia spread her files over the Summers' kitchen table. Notes from the Watcher's diaries. Pictures. Incriminating pictures. 

"As you can see, William the Bloody has been up to his old tricks. The chip is clearly not operational." 

"Uh-huh." Buffy looked dispassionately at the evidence. 

"It is your duty to slay him." 

"No it isn't!" Dawn rushed into the kitchen, her face pale. 

"Dawnie, it's late. Go back to bed." Buffy's words were calm, measured, reasonable. 

"No! You can't do it, Buffy. He's said that he'll be good from now on. He felt horrible about it! I made him promise not to tell you. He wanted to. He wanted to tell you everything. Buffy, he wanted to die." 

"I can grant that wish." Buffy's eyes glinted dangerously. "Dawn. Trust that I'll do the right thing. I know you think Spike is your friend, but you're wrong. Someday you'll understand." 

"No, I'll never understand. Never. If you kill him, you'll be a murderer." Hysterical tears poured from Dawn's eyes. "Please, Buffy . . . " 

"Dawn, we knew someday Spike would go back to his old ways. Today it might be the homeless guy. Tomorrow it could be one of your friends from school. How would that make you feel?" 

"Spike wouldn't do that. He promised." 

"Spike's a vampire, Dawn. It's his nature. It's what he does. He may want to keep his promise, but the temptation will always be there. And one day, he won't be able to resist." 

"He told me that you were his soul, Buffy." 

"Huh?" 

"He said that when he fed on the guy--and he didn't kill him by the way--he saw himself through your eyes." Dawn swiped at her tears. "And what he saw made him sick." 

"Fascinating." Dr. Higginbottom scribbled a note in her file. 

Buffy turned, a hint of emotion crossing her face. "Are we just an interesting puzzle to you, Dr. Higginbottom? Are you enjoying this?" 

Lydia shook her head. "No. On the contrary. I just find William--Spike's--behaviour intensely interesting. If what your sister says is true, then he was able to overcome his instincts. Of course, there's no proof, beyond the word of a vampire," she smiled ruefully, "and I know first hand that your William is an accomplished liar." 

"OK, so we've established that Spike may or may not be able to control himself. But we can't take that chance." Buffy reached for Dawn's hand, her eyes empty and hollow. "I have to do it, Dawn." 

Dawn ripped her hand away and ran out the front door. 

"Dammit, Dawn!" Buffy watched as her pajama-clad sister ran down the street. She had to go after her. 

"Dr. Higginbottom, you stay here. I have to go after my sister. But when I get back, I want to hear the rest. Every last detail." 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

"Gotta say, I love what you've done with the place. Trashed, but it still has that touch of elegance." Angel's yellow eyes glowed as he picked up a lit candelabra. "Like this little gothic gem." He paused, bringing the flame dangerously near Spike's face. The smell of burning hair filled the crypt. "You'd make an attractive torch, Spike." 

"You really enjoy setting your kids on fire, don't you, Granddad?" 

"I wouldn't say I enjoyed it really." Angel put the candelabra down. "But if my 'kids' get out of line, they need to be disciplined. And my children really have been very naughty." Angel drew back and smacked Spike hard. Blood ran in a small rivulet from the corner of his mouth. 

"I mean, falling in love with Buffy. How sad is that, Spike?" Angel's mouth twisted cruelly as he hit the blonde vampire again. "Especially since you know she'll never love you back." 

"I know." Spike met Angel's angry gaze. "It'll always be you." 

"Damn right. I suffered for that girl. I went to hell. I left her. Do you know how hard that was? Leaving her, so she could have a normal life?" 

"I can imagine." 

"You don't know shit, Spike. You have no idea what it is to love like I love. The kind of love where you'd give everything up, sacrifice everything, just so the other person can be happy. You have no fucking idea." 

"Maybe I do." 

That earned Spike another pummeling. "Now I find out she's been making time with you. You're 'friends'. What the hell is that? She should have staked you a long time ago. But there's no excuse anymore, is there Spike?" 

Spike's eyebrows rose in surprise. 

"You've been feeding." 

Spike began to laugh. "Been spying on me? Yeah, I took a little nip, what of it? Did you see the part where I threw it up? Did you see what a pathetic excuse for a vampire I've become?" 

Spike reached inside his waistband, withdrew a stake, and tossed it to Angel. "Here, mate. Go ahead and do it. I wanted it to be Buffy, but I guess you'll do." 

Angel felt the hard wood of the stake in the palm of his hand. With a growl he lunged at Spike, aiming for his heart. 

Spike stared straight ahead, watching death come. He felt something like contentment. Funny that. 

"Spike!!" 

Dawn burst through the door of the crypt. What she saw sickened her. 

Angel turned. "Dawn, you don't belong here." 

Spike felt the stake drawing blood right above his heart. "Niblet, it's over. Go on home. Please?" 

"Noooooo!" Dawn leapt at Angel, raining down punches on his back. 

"What's going on?" Buffy appeared in the open doorway. "Angel? What are you doing here?" 

"Taking care of your Spike problem." Angel grasped Dawn's wrists, but she wriggled free and ran to Spike. 

"Are you OK?" Dawn took in his beaten face and the blood on his chest. Accusingly, she faced her sister's ex-boyfriend. "Did you do all this, Angelus?" 

"He deserved it, Dawn. Do you know what he's been up to?" 

"Yeah, he told me. He made a mistake." Dawn burned with defiant anger. 

"It's OK, Little Bit." Spike tried to smile. "Glad you're defending me and all, but I think my time is up. And now your sis is here maybe she'll do the honours. What do you say, Slayer?" 

Mechanically, Buffy raised a stake. Breathe. Just-- 

Kill him. 

He wanted it. He wanted it to be her. 

"He loves me." It came out as a whisper. "You love me." 

"Yeah, pet. We covered that territory a while ago. Your ex here isn't too pleased, by the way." 

"You love me." 

"Again, yes. Stating the obvious, Slayer. Doesn't really matter." 

Buffy moved forward, approaching his chair, stake in hand. She began to tremble. 

Tenderly, she knelt before him. The trembling turned into shaking. Slowly, she brought the stake to his chest. 

"You want me to do it." 

She was so close now. Her golden hair. Her green eyes. Her mouth. Her smooth skin. Her scent. 

"Yes." 

Buffy brought the stake to his heart and began to press. A cry ripped through her. "Oh God. Oh God. Oh God." 

The stake fell from her hand and her body convulsed with sobs. "I can't do it." 

And then it came, very quiet, not even a whisper. "You love him." 

END PART SEVENTEEN   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	18. Chapter 18

dawn18upload.html Title: Another Dawn, Chapter 18   
Author: Sanguine   
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and 20th-Century Fox own these characters. The situations presented here come from my own twisted brain.   
Distribution: With permission.   
Rating: PG-13   
Feedback: Yes! Please!!!   
Notes: Thanks again to the most excellent Redemptionista Writers' Workshop.   


Buffy stopped crying, but the tears were still wet on her face. With a strange sense of calm, she considered the man before her--beaten, bloodied, full of hope.

Slowly, she rose from the floor. "Take it, Spike." She offered him the stake.

With trembling hand, Spike took the piece of sharpened wood from his Slayer. "Pet, is it true? What Angel said?"

Buffy stared at him with blank eyes. Her voiced choked and hitched as she struggled for control. "Dawn, let's go."

"Buffy?" Dawn put a comforting arm around her sister. "Don't you think . . ."

"Please, Dawn. Let's go."

Dawn heard it in her sister's voice--the barely suppressed hysteria. "OK, Buffy." She put on her best menacing face. "Angel, are you coming too?"

Angel suddenly seemed very old. He raised his head and twisted his mouth in what he supposed was an approximation of a smile. "You go ahead."

Dawn's face registered fear. Buffy's face remained impassive.

"Dawn, don't worry," Angel whispered. "I won't kill him, not now."

Silently, Buffy and Dawn left the crypt.

Spike grasped the stake in his hand until his knuckles grew white. Angel simply stared through the open crypt door at the two figures fading into the darkness.

For Angel, it was over. It felt like something inside him had died.

Well, it had. The dream that he and Buffy would be together someday. It was the only thing that had sustained him. And now his big romantic dream had become a sick farce.

Angel's gaze met Spike's. The younger vampire flinched in anticipation of the pain he expected his grandsire to inflict. But no blows came. Angel appeared to be keeping his word. Angel's mouth opened, and for a moment it seemed as if he were incapable of speech. But then the words came. Bitter words.

"You should go after her, Spike. Talk. That's what lovers do."

Spike's grimaced. "Angel, I didn't mean for this to happen. It wasn't my life's ambition to become a defanged, fluffy puppy mooning over the Slayer--the Slayer of all people!" He paused, and his tone grew serious. "I do love her, you know. I'd die for her, I'd do anything."

"Then go after her."

Spike got up from his chair and carefully wiped his still oozing bottom lip. Unsteadily, he made his way to the door. "Angel?"

"What?"

"Thank you."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Willow lit another candle and continued to fume. Well, it was part fuming and part guilt and part something else--fear maybe. What if Tara never came back? What if she was so angry that she decided she was done with her?

Willow scanned the pages of Darkest Magic and absentmindedly caressed her cat, Miss Kitty Fantastico. "Auntie Tara is wrong, Kitty! Just because she went all loopy and psycho and used this book to raise zombie-mom from the dead doesn't mean that I'll go loopy and psycho--does it?"

Miss Kitty purred in response. She liked having her ears scratched.

"See, of course not! No loopy-ness or psychosis for me! Only sanity and cool spells. Speaking of which . . ."

Chapter 12: Mind Manipulation.

Willow felt a very large pang of guilt. This was definitely not of the good. But what if Tara was so angry that she never came back? What if she could make her forget why she hated the book Darkest Magic?

It was awfully tempting.

Henbane, mandrake, bat's wing, eye of newt--hey, she had all this stuff!

Maybe she'd try it, just this once.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Lena Petrovich, room 518 please."

"Hello." Lena Petrovich sat up groggily in her bed. "Who is this?"

"Lena, it's Doctor Black."

"Um-hmm. What time is it?"

"Late, I'm afraid, very late."

"Why are you calling me at this hour, Doctor?"

"I have some unfortunate news."

"Oh?"

"Things did not go as planned. Your little problem--well--I'm afraid he wasn't eliminated."

"William the Bloody still lives? I thought you told me that the situation would resolve itself?"

"I thought it would . . ." There was a burst of static. " . . . free will."

"Pardon me?" Lena adjusted the volume on her phone.

"Perhaps we should discuss an alternate solution to your problem. I know of some interesting photographic evidence, evidence of William's continued misdeeds, that might prove to be particularly persuasive to a certain young construction worker."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Did you deal with your vampire problem, Ms. Summers?"

"No." Buffy's empty eyes met Dr. Higginbottom's. "I didn't."

"Why's that?" Lydia's face filled with something like concern. "Did he harm you?"

"No. Apparently, I love him." Buffy shot Lydia a confrontational look, daring her to react.

Lydia cleared her throat. "I--see. Um, well, this--this--makes it even more urgent, what I have to tell you. You, see, this all--well not all--but most of this has happened before. It was during the Restoration."

Buffy's voice acquired a caustic edge. "The only Restoration I know is Restoration Hardware."

Lydia shuffled her notes nervously and shot a sideways glance at Dawn, who held her sister's hand. "Um, Ms. Summers, what I'm going to tell you might not be suitable for your sister's ears."

"Dawn's heard too much already. Especially tonight. I doubt a lesson in Slayer history will really hurt her."

Dawn smiled defiantly at Dr. Higginbottom and squeezed Buffy's hand.

"I'll start from the very beginning. The Restoration was a period in English history beginning with the restoration of the Stuart king, Charles II, to the English throne in 1660. Oliver Cromwell had taken power after the Civil War and . . ."

Buffy groaned. "Cut to the chase. Once upon a time in England. That's all I need to know."

Lydia sighed and pushed a pile of papers forward. "Very well. Here. Read these. They're the journal entries. I suspect you might find them applicable to your current situation."

Buffy read. Blah, blah, blah. A stuffy Watcher. Obviously hot for his Slayer but way repressed. Slayer kicks major butt with her crossbow. Stuffy Watcher guy scoping out a potential date for his Slayer. How weird is that? Thank God, Giles never tried it, although maybe I wouldn't be in this mess today if . . . Wait a minute. Reggio's a vampire. Slayer drinks his blood. Watcher freaks. Slayer goes psycho. Tries to kill Watcher. Watcher kills Slayer. Watcher kills himself. End of story.

Buffy laughed bitterly. "So, let me get this straight. Because I drank Spike's blood--and don't forget Dracula--nummy vampire goodness there--you think I'm going to go all evil and kill my Watcher? Newsflash, honey! He's not even in the same country."

"Ms. Summers--Buffy," Lydia's face filled with concern. "Believe it or not, I like you. And as you probably have ascertained, I like William quite a bit. I've always had a soft spot for rogues. But it's very obvious his heart is taken by another." Lydia blushed slightly, but continued. "According to what I've been taught by the Council, your William should be incapable of feeling anything human. Animalistic lust, yes. Love, no. But I researched him for years. And I could find nothing to support the standard thesis. He seems to be an exception to the rule. Perhaps he can transcend his nature. And perhaps you can transcend whatever unfortunate side effects ingesting his blood might have upon you. After all, we all have choices. We can choose to--succumb to our basest instincts, or we may rise above them." Lydia began to pick nervously at her cuticles. "For example, part of me hoped the news that William's feeding again would hurt you. But another part wanted to help you. I admire you, you see. That's why I'm sharing this information about what happened in the past."

"Does the Council know you're here, telling us all this? Do they know about Spike?" Dawn's eyes slitted with suspicion.

Lydia shook her head. "No, I've come here of my own accord. And I haven't told them anything about William--Spike's--feeding activities. In fact, Quentin Travers would put my head on a pike if he knew what I was up to."

Buffy smiled weakly. "If what you are telling me is true, thank you. But I'll have to talk to Giles. He has--sources--that might be able to back up your story. I wonder," Buffy shuffled through the papers before her, "did the girl, the Slayer, keep a diary?"

Lydia shrugged. "I don't know. It's standard practice for the Slayer to keep a record of her life, but for some reason her journal was never published."

"Maybe it's hanging out in the archives somewhere." Buffy sighed. "I need to call Giles."

Slowly, Buffy scooted her kitchen chair back, hearing it scrape unpleasantly against the linoleum tile. "Dr. Higginbottom--Lydia--thank you." Buffy extended her hand.

Lydia grasped it, pleased. "My pleasure. Let me know what you find. If I can be of further assistance . . ."

Buffy nodded. "Yes, I will. But now it's time for sleep." She bit her lip. "It's been another very long night."

Dawn opened the door for Lydia.

Then the three women saw him. Rushing up the sidewalk, a determined look in his eye.

Spike.

END PART EIGHTEEN   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	19. Chapter 19

dawn19upload.html Title: Another Dawn, Chapter 19   
Author: Sanguine   
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and 20th-Century Fox own these characters. The situations presented here come from my own twisted brain.   
Distribution: With permission.   
Rating: PG-13   
Feedback: Yes! Please!!!   
Notes: Thanks again to the most excellent Redemptionista Writers' Workshop. Sorry about the long hiatus. That's what happens when you move cross country and it takes weeks--yes weeks--for your cable provider to hook up the modem. Grrr. Arghh!!   


"Lydia." Spike nodded to Dr. Higginbottom as he approached the Summers' home. His eyes never left Buffy.

"Will you be alright, Buffy?" Lydia's brow wrinkled with concern.

Buffy nodded. "I can take care of this. I'll be in touch."

Spike raised an eyebrow. "You girls are awfully friendly. Been talking about me?"

Buffy ignored his comment. One thing at a time, Buffy. One thing at a time. "Drive safely, Lydia."

Lydia glanced speculatively at William the Bloody and tried to read his expression as she moved past him towards her car. She wished she could be a fly on the wall for this conversation.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Hecate, blessed goddess of the moon, goddess of night, goddess of all things dark. Grant me the power to do my will."

Willow's pupils dilated as the aromatic fumes from the bubbling saucepan she'd placed on a hot plate wafted through her dorm room. She'd had to improvise. A cauldron wouldn't really fit with the dorm décor and besides, where would she find a fire to make it double, double, boil and bubble?

"Just the eye of newt." Willow added the final ingredient with a self-satisfied flourish. "There. All done." The potion in the saucepan flashed green.

Willow picked up a 3x5" inch glossy of Tara from the floor. "Wipe clean her memory, make her forget." Willow felt the energy flow through her. She never tired of that feeling--the feeling of absolute control.

Now she just had to wait for Tara to come back to her. Willow smiled contentedly and kissed Miss Kitty's furry head.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"How're you doing, Little Bit?" Spike tried to be polite.

"Fine, Spike." Dawn smirked. "Why don't I let you guys talk and stuff? I'll be upstairs if you need me, which I doubt you will." Dawn giggled and dashed inside the house.

Buffy cleared her throat. Talk about an awkward moment! Here he was, the vampire she couldn't kill, the vampire Angel said she loved.

"Where's Angel?" As soon as the words escaped her mouth, she regretted them. Buffy watched Spike's mouth twist into sardonic smirk. Great. This was going ever so well.

"He's gone back to L.A., I guess. Said there was nothing for him here. Said he should never have come back." Spike sighed. "Buffy, do you mind if we do this in the house? I don't fancy putting on a show for the neighbours."

A smile played around the corners of Buffy's mouth as she palmed a stake. "What kind of show, Spike?"

Spike didn't smile back. "This is serious, Buffy. Put the stake away."

Buffy shrugged and slipped the stake into her pocket. "Whatever. You were begging me to kill you about an hour ago."

Spike regarded her relentlessly. For a moment, he didn't speak. When he finally did, his voice was deeper than usual, almost husky. "We both know you can't kill me." He licked his lips and took a step towards Buffy. "We both know what you'd rather do."

Wow. Serious Spike. This was something rare. Buffy forced herself to look him in the eyes. Yup. There it was. Hope, big time, gleaming right back at her. What did he want to hear? Yeah, Spike, I'll forget all those people you killed over the years and might kill in the future if I wasn't around to be your "soul." Your compact, yet muscular, body is just too much for me! How can I not give in? But that was the problem wasn't it? She wanted to give in. Boy, did she want to give in.

Buffy kept her face a perfectly impassive mask and gestured towards the door. "OK. Come in, Spike."

Spike walked through the doorway and stood nervously in the living room, fists clenched into tight balls. In a minute he might start pacing. Buffy couldn't help but smile. Still a Victorian suitor.

"Alright, Spike. What do you want to talk about?"

"You ran away without answering my question."

Buffy continued to smile pleasantly. Totally under control. "Can I get you anything? Hot chocolate with little marshmallows? Blood? I think we still have a packet in the back of the fridge. Hey, how about those spicy buffalo wings? We shouldn't talk on an empty stomach. I'll just go to the store and get some." Buffy grabbed her purse and headed for the door.

"Nope." Spike grabbed her wrist. "You're not running away again, Buffy." With his fingertips he could feel her pulse racing beneath her thin, soft skin. "Answer my question. Was Angel right?" His eyes searched hers for the answer he wanted. "Do you love me?"

Buffy wrenched her wrist away. Her face flushed. Desperately, she tried to keep her voice level and calm. "Maybe I do, but . . ."

Her words were cut off by Spike. Spike's lips. Soft, exploring. Her mouth opened with pleasure. Buffy moaned as Spike's hand slid under the back of her shirt. She tingled in response as his lips brushed against her cheek.

"Buffy."

The sound of her name broke the spell. "Spike." She pushed him away, breathing hard. "Spike, no."

"Bloody hell, woman! What now? You love me. The great poof's going back to L.A. What's the problem?"

Buffy straightened her rumpled blouse. "What I feel for you doesn't matter. I can't be with someone who might wake up tomorrow and say, 'hey, I think I want a nice happy meal on legs. Sounds yummy.'"

"So, you still think I'm a killer, Slayer."

"Without the chip . . ."

"Without the chip I have to wake up everyday and make the decision to be good, to not feed."

"And I'll help you with that. I promised I would. But I can't be with you. I can't go through it again. When Angel turned into Angelus . . ."

Spike grasped Buffy by the shoulders, anger contorting his features. "I'm not Angel! When will you realise that? Look, I'm sorry he betrayed you. But I would never do what he did. I mean it when I say you are my soul. I don't think I'm capable of it anymore--the killing. When I tried to drain that bloke in the alley, all I saw was you. You and Dawn."

Buffy suppressed the urge to flee. She wasn't good at this--the talking, the sorting things out. What had her Spirit Guide told her? "Risk the pain." Loving Spike could definitely be painful.

"Buffy, just give me a chance. Will you do that?"

Buffy could hear the ticking of her mother's old clock in the living room. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. Then it began to chime. One. Two. Three. Four. 4 am. Way too early in the morning to think about this stuff. Maybe he'd go away, and they could talk about it tomorrow. Yeah, tomorrow would be good. Tomorrow was another day.

Buffy drew a shaky breath and steeled her nerves. She was so not good at this. Buffy and relationships were bad. Buffy and relationships with vampires--very, very bad. OK. She had to give him an answer. The next word would be the hardest. Had she ever said it to Spike?

"Yes."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

4 am and still no Tara. Where could she be?

A knot of worry began to form in Willow's stomach. What if something had gone terribly wrong with the spell? What if Tara was wandering around, bespelled, enchanted, not knowing what was going on?

"I have to find her." Willow blew out the candle on her bedside table and grabbed her purse. She opened the door and suddenly the knot in her stomach released. "Tara!"

Tara's eyes opened wide and her face blanched white with surprise and fear. "Who are you?! What are you doing in my room?!"

END PART NINETEEN   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	20. Chapter 20

Title: Another Dawn, Chapter 20   
Author: Sanguine   
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and 20th-Century Fox own these characters. The situations presented here come from my own twisted brain.   
Distribution: With permission.   
Rating: PG-13   
Feedback: Yes! Please!!!   
  


Bloody hell. 

Yes! She'd said yes. 

What had he expected to hear? "I'll give you a chance when hell freezes over"? Or, "Take a chance on this!" accompanied by a fist to the nose? Or, his all-time favourite, "You're beneath me"? But just a simple, "Yes"? That was different. Fresh. Unique. 

Actually, it was damn frightening. What if he screwed it up? What if she found out he was really just a stupid, lovesick bloke who wrote bad poetry and . . . 

"Spike?" Buffy looked worried. "Say something here. I'm feeling a little, um, exposed. I just said yes. I thought you'd be happy. I thought . . ." 

Right, Spike. Less thinking, more action. 

He licked his lips and moved closer. "So, does this chance start now?" 

Buffy nodded. 

"Great." He slid his hands around her and lightly traced his fingers down her spine. "Brilliant." His voice was husky as his lips trailed slowly up her neck. Buffy didn't flinch. 

"You trust me, pet." The words were whispered against her fluttering pulse. What did he feel at that moment, nestled in the curve of her neck, tasting the salt of her skin? Wonder. Gratitude. But he knew he bloody well didn't deserve it-- this chance. 

Buffy put her hand under his chin and looked into his glistening eyes. A small smile crossed her lips as she moved in to kiss him. Saying yes to Spike might be fun. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

Willow's eyes welled up with tears. "Oh God! Tara! Sweetie? Don't you know me?" 

Tara's keys jangled as her hand began to shake with suppressed terror. "P-p-please. I-if you just leave, I won't tell any one about this." She glanced at Willow's hands, almost as if she expected to see a weapon there. "Or I could just come back, and when I-I-I come b-b-back you could be gone." Tara backed nervously towards the door. "I'll just leave." 

"No." Willow sobbed. "I'll go, Tara." 

Tara's fear began to subside in the face of Willow's near hysterics. She considered the small redhead with a mixture of suspicion and concern. "Look, I don't know who you think I am, but I-I think you might need some kind of help." 

Willow gulped and responded with a broken and wavering voice. "Y-you have no idea." 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

Xander Harris squinted at his alarm clock. 5 am. Who could be knocking on his apartment door at 5 am? 

Anya continued sleeping soundly beside him. Sleeping the sound, untroubled sleep of an ex-vengeance demon. A little banging on the door paled in comparison to the plaintive wails of unfaithful lovers after you'd just made their bits fall off. Anya smiled in her sleep and turned over. She was obviously not dreaming about Bugs Bunny. 

Unsteadily, Xander rose and donned a scruffy-looking robe. Come to think of it, most of his wardrobe looked kind of scruffy. Anya had been on his case to buy some new stuff, but clothes seemed stupid to him, especially when they were just going to get construction site junk all over them. 

Shuffling into the living room he approached the door and peered through the peephole. After all, it was Sunnyhell. Couldn't be too careful. 

Lena Petrovich. 

Figured. Did the woman ever sleep? 

Slowly, Xander unlatched the door. "What do you want now? I've already told you, I'm not killing Spike." 

Lena thrust a large, yellow envelope into his hand. "You might change your mind, Mr. Harris, after you've seen what's in this envelope." 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

Poke. 

"Spike, wake up." 

Poke, poke. 

"Spike!" 

"Huh?" Groggily, he opened one eye and noticed the pale sunlight creeping inexorably towards the pale flesh of his exposed arm. 

"You'd better move, Spike, or you're going to be vamp flambé." Dawn giggled, but there was a hint of concern in her voice. 

"Wha . . ." Spike slowly regained some degree of consciousness and noted with vague displeasure his location. 

The couch. 

That's right, kiddies, the bloody couch. 

After Buffy had agreed to the "chance", after a pretty damn spectacular snogging session, she'd shut him down. "Spike, I'm not ready for this." 

OK, he'd understood. He'd even respected her for it. But it didn't make sleeping on the sodding couch an attractive option. Especially when she was right upstairs, probably in something silky and lacy and . . . 

"Bloody hell!" Spike yelped as his flesh began to smoke. Grasping a comforter around him he scrambled into the shadows. 

Dawn shook her head and adjusted the curtains. "Didn't make it upstairs, huh?" 

"That's none of your sodding . . ." 

Dawn raised one eyebrow. 

"Oh, alright Niblet. No, I didn't. But she's said she'll give me a chance." 

"Yeah, I heard. I think the whole neighbourhood heard." Dawn rolled her eyes in disgust. 

"Bugger off." Spike growled. Sexual frustration had put him in a foul mood, but he had a chance, dammit! That was worth something. 

Dawn smirked. "You're grumpy this morning. You must be hungry. I think we have a blood packet left." 

"Hey, Little Bit," his tone softened. "Don't put it in one of those frilly, girlie mugs. It's blood, not Hazelnut Mocha." 

"Fine, Spike. Oh, and we have Weetabix in the cupboard above the sink. But if you want some, you're on your own. I'm not going there." Dawn disappeared into the kitchen and Spike heard the refrigerator door open. 

Weetabix did sound good. He was a bit peckish. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

Xander yawned. "OK. I give. What special little surprise have you brought me at 5:05 in the morning?" 

"Evidence, Mr. Harris. Evidence." 

Slowly, Lena Petrovich spread the contents of the envelope across the table. Pictures. Black and white. Surprisingly clear, considering they were taken at night. 

With growing horror Xander saw Spike. Homeless guy. Fangs. Feeding. That could only mean one thing. 

No chip. 

Xander's heart fell into the pit of his stomach. Well, not literally, but it sure as hell felt like it. He gulped. "Does Buffy know? Have you shown these to her?" 

"My source tells me she knows. He kills innocent people, and yet she does nothing." 

"He killed this guy? It wasn't just a midnight snack?" 

Lena's eyes widened in horror. 

"OK. That came out all wrong. Snacking is most definitely not OK. But I just don't believe Spike would really kill . . ." 

"The man is dead. You may check the morgue if you like. I did." 

Xander shot her a skeptical look. 

"I have my sources, Mr. Harris. Very powerful sources." Lena's mouth twisted bitterly. "Money can buy many things, Mr. Harris." She sighed and ran one perfectly manicured hand through her perfectly styled brown hair. "Yes, it can buy many things, but it cannot bring your parents back to life." She paused. "It can, however, buy justice." 

Her eyes met his. "Will you help me now?" 

Xander considered the pictures one last time. He shook his head, then pushed them away in distaste. "Yes." 

END PART TWENTY   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	21. Chapter 21

dawn21upload.html Title: Another Dawn, Chapter 21   
Author: Sanguine   
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and 20th-Century Fox own these characters. The situations presented here come from my own twisted brain.   
Distribution: With permission.   
Rating: PG-13   
Feedback: Yes! Please!!!   


Buffy rubbed her eyes sleepily and made her way into the kitchen. She   
smelled coffee. Coffee good.   
  
Drawing her hand back from her eyes she beheld a slightly unsettling scene of domestic bliss.   
  
Dawn drank a glass of orange juice and scribbled furiously at her homework. Spike sat next to her, peering over her shoulder and making a few suggestions between bites of blood-sodden Weetabix.

Spike, there in the morning. Spike, eating breakfast. Spike, seeing her hair standing straight up. When in doubt, do what you know, Buffster. Banter.   
  
"The Weetabix has to go, Spike."

Spike looked up from Dawn's homework, a broad smile illuminating his face. "Morning, luv. Sleep well?"   
  
Buffy ran her fingers through her tangled hair--a futile attempt to make it behave. "I could have slept better. I felt kinda restless."   
  
Spike rose from his chair and closed the space between them. Buffy's pulse accelerated as one of his hands reached up, tucking a wayward blond strand behind her ear. "We could have done something about that, pet." Roguishly, he raised an eyebrow.

Buffy brushed her lips across his smooth, cool cheek. She heard an unnecessary breath catch in his throat. Even that--just a little kiss--it meant so much to him. Of course, Spike wasn't used to her touching him. Well, touching him in a non-violent, non-Slayer-y way.   
  
"OK, guys. I've seen enough. That's my cue to go." Dawn gulped the remaining juice and threw her books into her backpack. "Bye, Buffy. Bye, Spike." She chuckled. "Be good."

Spike smirked and reluctantly dragged his eyes away from Buffy. "Aren't we always? Have a good day, Niblet."   
  
"Have a good day. Learn lots." Buffy turned and gave Dawn a quick hug.   
  
Dawn waved and ran out the door, grinning from ear to ear.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Willow sat on a park bench, watching the sunrise. The tears had stopped long ago, drying in streaky, salty lines across her face.   
  
She had to fix this. But what if she screwed it up again and made it worse? Should she give Tara back all her memories, even the bad stuff? Or should she give her the edited version? If Tara knew the truth, she'd lose her for good.

"Maybe I don't deserve Tara." Willow buried her face in her hands. "Maybe I don't deserve anyone." Slowly, she got up from the bench. She knew what she had to do.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Now we're alone, Spike . . ."

"Mmm-hmmm." Spike buried his face in her hair, then began working his way down her neck, his lips tracing delicate patterns across her skin.

"Spike, you make it really hard to concentrate."

"That's the idea, pet." His words were muffled by Buffy hair.

Reluctantly, Buffy pulled away. God, she didn't want to do this. Drawing a deep breath, she poured herself a cup of coffee and took a small sip. It burned slightly going down. Nice and hot.

"Spike, there's some stuff I need to tell you."   
  
Spike watched as a cloud of worry fell across her features. Whatever Buffy wanted to say, it was bloody serious. Maybe she was rethinking the whole chance thing. Maybe she'd realised . . .

"Look, just read this." Buffy tossed a file at him, avoiding his eyes. "Then we'll talk. In the meantime, I need to call Giles. What time do you think it is in England?"   
  
"It's afternoon, luv. You won't wake him, unless Ripper's been out on a bender." Spike flashed a tentative smile.   
  
Buffy smiled back, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I think it's safe to call."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Xander pounded a nail just a little too violently into the stud. Adrenaline rushed through his system. Barely suppressed rage will do that for you. How could Buffy just accept what Spike had done? She was still the Slayer, right? Protector of the innocent? The more he thought about it, the more it pissed him off.

The worst part was, he'd started to like the bastard. Well, maybe like was too strong a word, but the guy was good for a game of pool. And he only stole his money sometimes. OK, Xander. Not a guy. A corpse. A walking, talking, blood-drinking corpse. That's all. Totally stake-worthy.

"Hey Harris, don't break it." Jimmy, his co-worker, watched as Xander almost hammered right through the two-by-four. "Something bothering you?"

"Nah." Xander forced a smile. "I've just got a lot on my mind."

"Women problems?"

"Nope." Xander shook his head. "Family stuff. You know how it goes."

"Uh-huh. Weddings always bring out the worst in people. My mother-in-law was horrible. Ran the whole damn show. I barely needed to be there."

"Um-hmm." Xander banged another nail into the stud, more gently this time.   
  
Jimmy took the hint. Obviously Harris didn't want to talk about it.

Xander swiped angrily at a bead of sweat. Things to do tonight: talk to   
Buffy, kill Spike. A short list. He might not be fast, he might not be strong, but he had the element of surprise on his side. "We'll just see what a glorified brick-layer can do."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Hello?"

Giles was in England, but the connection was so good, it sounded like he was in the next room. Buffy's throat constricted.

"Hi Giles. How's that yummy English food?"

"Buffy! It's wonderful to hear from you!"   
  
"England must agree with you, Giles. You sound positively chipper. But this isn't just a friendly chat. I need you to go into watcher mode."

"Anything, Buffy. What do you need?"

"I need to know everything about a Slayer . . ." Buffy paused and consulted Lydia's scribbled note, "Elizabeth Barry. She lived in seventeenth-century England. Her watcher was James Spencer. I've read his diary, but her stuff seems to be missing. I know you'll hate this, but could you dig around in those dusty Watcher archives for me?"

"What's going on, Buffy? Are you alright?" Giles's voice tightened with concern.

"I'm fine, Giles. I promise." Yup. Good Buffy. Sounds totally believable. "If you find anything, just fax the pages to the gallery. Do you have the number?"

"I do, Buffy. But why do you need her diary? What's going on?"   
  
Buffy allowed herself a sigh. "Giles, as soon as I figure it out myself, I'll tell you."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++   
  
Spike's stomach sank. This was an eerily familiar little tale. A bird in the seventeenth century went all homicidal after she had a taste of vamp blood. A hollow laugh welled up in his throat. "That explains a lot, mate. Maybe that's why Buffy could suddenly stand to snog the soulless."   
  
"Talking to yourself, Spike? Buffy walked into the kitchen and replaced the phone in its cradle. "It's one of the first signs of insanity, you know."

Spike stared at her, waiting, his face a careful, impassive mask.

Buffy cleared her throat nervously. "Giles is looking for the Slayer's diary entries. If he finds anything, he'll fax it to the gallery. So hopefully we'll know both sides of the story pretty soon."   
  
Spike continued to stare.

"What?" Self-consciously, Buffy tightened the belt of her robe.

Spike gestured towards the file. "Is this why you're giving me a chance, Buffy? Is this why you could be with the likes of me?"   
  
Buffy's face furrowed with confusion. "No, Spike, I . . ."

"Have I corrupted you, Buffy? Is that it? Has my blood done something to you?" Spike's eyes looked suspiciously glassy.

"Spike," Buffy cradled his face in her hands. "Look at me."

Spike reluctantly met her gaze.

Gently, Buffy stroked his cheek. "I don't think I'm corrupted. I still feel the same. But you're right. What's in this file does worry me."

With calculated grace, Spike removed her hand from his face. His words flew towards her like perfectly crafted little knives. Precise. Cutting. The coldness reached his eyes. "Maybe I should just leave you alone, until you get the stuff from Rupert. Until you know for sure that what you're feeling isn't just some side effect of drinking my blood."

"But what if Giles can't find anything?"

Spike shrugged and strode into the living room, grabbing the comforter from the couch.

"Spike, don't do this. Don't leave."

"Look luv, I've got things to do today."

"Like what, Spike?" Buffy grasped his wrist. "You're a vampire for God's sakes. Vamp plus sunlight equals dust, remember?   
  
Spike's flinty eyes met hers. "Believe me, Buffy, I know what I am."

"Spike . . ."

Spike wrenched his wrist away. Buffy saw the outlines of her fingers on his pale skin. His hand wavered slightly as it reached for the door. "Let me know when you hear from Rupert." Spike opened the door, pulling the blanket over his head. He didn't look back.

Buffy swallowed convulsively as she watched him run to his DeSoto, trailing smoke behind him.

END PART TWENTY-ONE   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	22. Chapter 22

dawn22upload.html Title: Another Dawn, Chapter 22   
Author: Sanguine   
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and 20th-Century Fox own these characters. The situations presented here come from my own twisted brain.   
Distribution: With permission.   
Rating: PG-13   
Feedback: Yes! Please!!!   


Xander Harris removed his hard hat and withdrew his beeping cell phone from its case.  
  
"You have one new message. To play this message, press one. To delete this message press . . ."  
  
"Hi Xander. It's Buffy. Sorry to bother you during the day, but it's important."  
  
Xander's mouth twitched.  
  
"Anyway, if you could meet me at the Magic Shop at 6pm tonight, we need to have a meeting of the Scoobies. It's really important."  
  
Xander pressed the delete button. Oh, he'd be there, all right. With bells on, baby.  
  
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
Willow brushed a tear from her eye. Her vision blurred as she tried to make out the words of the spell. She couldn't screw this up. This was the last time. Ever. She'd better get it right.  
  
Still blinking back tears, Willow left the confines of the magic circle she'd carefully drawn on the training room floor and locked the door.   
  
Don't want to be interrupted. Too important.  
  
Shakily, she drew a breath and impatiently brushed her henna-ed hair out of her face.  
  
Concentrate.  
  
"Hecate, three-fold goddess. Hear my plea . . ."  
  
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
This was it.  
  
Buffy watched as the fax rolled through. Fresh from England.   
  
Someone in the Watcher's Council had tried to hide Elizabeth Barry's diary. But they didn't try hard enough to fool Giles. Giles might have had an unnatural attachment to all things tweedy, but damn! He knew his way around the archives.  
  
Lucky for her. Her future depended on what was in this diary.  
  
Her future hopefully sans evil.  
  
Her future happiness.  
  
Her future with Spike.  
  
Twenty pages. This would take a while, especially since it was in that old fashioned, badly-spelled English. Guess they didn't have spell-check back then.  
  
OK. No more being flippant. Defense mechanism. Just worried, that's all. Really worried.  
  
What if this says, "Yes, future Slayer girl. I drank the blood. I went wacky. I killed people and liked it! Just you wait. Evil splendour awaits you!"  
  
Enough, Buffy. No more flip. No more glib. No more racing heart. Calm down.   
  
"Winston? I'll lock up the gallery. You can go now. It's almost 5."  
  
Winston pushed his little wire-rimmed glasses up his nose and smiled tightly. Buffy knew what was behind that smile. He was thinking, "Joyce never closed the gallery early."  
  
Yeah, well, obviously I'm not my mother. She's dead. Just like I was . . .  
  
"Whatever you say, Buffy." Winston picked up his briefcase. "Have a pleasant evening."  
  
Buffy heard the bell ring as he left, the door slamming a little bit too hard behind him.  
  
"Wanker." Buffy muttered the British expletive under her breath and picked up all twenty pages from the fax machine. "If Spike is still talking to me after all this, then I'll take him up on his offer to work in the gallery. Gotta be better than Winston."  
  
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
Willow felt the power surge through her. This time, she didn't enjoy the feeling. She knew what the feeling cost.  
  
Like ghostly tendrils she felt the power reach out towards Tara.   
  
Willow's eyes rolled back. "Tara."  
  
Willow fell to the floor.  
  
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
Blah, blah, blah. Got a jolly, spiffy new crossbow. Mr. Spencer got it for me. Blah, blah. New dress for the coronation. Again with the shopping. Again with Mr. Spencer.  
  
Boring. Where was the good stuff?  
  
Hello. What's this? Reggio. Bingo.  
  
__23 April 1661__  
__  
__Most blessed event! The crowning of our new sovereigne. And, I must confesse, I feele blessed in many wayes. His majestie deigned to notice me. And then there was Reggio. __  
__  
__He daunced with grace and dignitie. He is dark and Italian and teaches musick to children. His eyes are moste blue and sparkling.__  
  
++

_1 July 1661__  
__  
__Reggio wishes to court me. Mr. Spencer gave his consent! I shall see him tomorrow at St. James. At sunset. Naturally, Mr. Spencer will come also to protect my vertue. From thence to ye playhouse to see the revival of Jonson's most excellent play. I hear that women now grace the stage, but most are not respectable. Altho' tomorrow Kynaston is the 'silent woman'. He makes an exceeding pretty girle; at least that's what Mr. Pepys says. We shall see.__  
_  
++  
  
__24 December 1661__  
__  
__Another Christmastide. Spencer gave me arrowes and, most importantly, a newe sett of breeches. I put them on today, and he looked at me most straunge.__  
__  
__Reggio presented me with a fine locket with his sweete image therein. I managed to meet him with much contrivance. Spencer has forbidden me to see him. Reggio does not understand what he has done to offend. I weep daylie thinking upon this most grievous estrangement.__  
  
++  
  
__15 March 1662__  
__  
__My deare Reggio is a man of many secretes. We must be carefull. I begine to questione what Spencer tells me. Methinks he cannot be trusted.__  
  
++  
  
__30 March 1662__  
__  
__Who is goode? Who is evill? I cannot discern between them. Who are these creatures I persecute?__  
  
++  
  
__20 April 1662__  
__  
__Reggio tells me I must kille them. A new Master has arriv'd and he has the face of a beast. He believes he can murther me. I must prepare.__  
__  
__Spencer lookes at me most furtively. Yesterday, I trayned with him, but he ended our exercises earlie, much flushed.__  
__  
__His lookes are full of straungeness. I am afraid.__  
  
**  
  
__1 June 1662__  
__  
__My deare Reggio. My sweete Reggio. He went against his own to protect me this eve. Now he too is hunted.__  
  
++  
  
__3 June1662__  
__  
__Most horrible daye. I weep, but nothing can chaunge my most foul circumstance.__  
__  
__Reggio feared that I would not be able to escape the clutches of both Spencer and the Master. __  
__  
__I drank but a sip of his most sweete bloud to give me immunitie against my foes, which yea verily, outnumber my friends in these darke times.__  
__  
__It was his last deed. Spencer. My Watcher. My former friend. Ran my deare Reggio thro'. My love dissolv'd and became the dust from whence we all came.__  
__  
__He is at peace.__  
__I shall never reste againe.__  
  
++  
  
__1 November 1662__  
__  
__I have endur'd much. I am a prisoner, my libertie most curtailled at the grasping handes of a jealous, hateful man.__  
__  
__I pray to my deare Lord to unsex me, to take from me this all too womanly softness so that I may do what I must. Spencer must dye. After ye horrours of his filthy, importune embraces and his diabolicall schemes against me with the enemie, he must dye. O, most foul deceiver!__  
__  
__On the night we commemorate our good Kinge James' escape from the evill Guido Fawkes the time will come. He shall know my true power. And my wrath.__  
  
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
Buffy's eyes glazed with tears in sympathetic response to the plight of poor Elizabeth. Having the Master go after you. She knew the feeling.   
  
If Elizabeth was telling the truth, she didn't need to worry about turning evil. But judging from what the other Slayer went through, she might need to worry about her friends' reactions to her being in love with a vampire. Again.  
  
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
Willow was roused from unconsciousness by a loud, incessant beeping.  
  
"Turn it off."  
  
Slowly, she realised what was making the noise. Cell phone.   
  
Tara?  
  
"You have two new messages. Message one. Hi Will. It's Buffy. Sorry to bother you, but it's important. Anyway, if you could meet me at the Magic Shop at 6pm tonight, we need to have a meeting of the Scoobies. It's really important."  
  
Willow groaned. Scooby business. Not in the mood. Life falling apart now.  
  
"Message two. "Willow. It's Tara. I know. I know everything. Don't ever come near me again."  
  
Willow began to cry. Carefully, she placed the book, Darkest Magick, in the centre of the circle.   
  
"Incidere."  
  
Blue flames engulfed the book. The pages curled. Then it was gone.   
  
"It's finished. Never again."  
  
"Willow?" Anya pounded on the door. "You OK in there?"  
  
"I'm fine." Willow managed those two words. It was painful, but she almost sounded normal.  
  
Willow sank to the floor. Her shoulders convulsed. Deliberately, she put one hand over her mouth to stifle her sobs. She didn't feel like dealing with a concerned ex-demon right now, telling her everything would be OK. Everything would not be OK.  
  
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
"Just a second, Kevin, I think my cell phone's beeping."   
  
Dawn smiled at Kevin and extracted her slim little Nokia from her backpack. "Just a sec. It's probably my sister. She's kinda overprotective and stuff." Dawn rolled her eyes and dialed her voice mail.  
  
"You have one new message. Message one. Hi Dawnie. It's Buffy. Could you meet me at the Magic Shop at 6pm tonight? It's really important."  
  
"That was weird." Dawn shrugged.  
  
"What?" Kevin smirked. "She being all über-parental again?"  
  
"Nah. She just sounded weird. Sorta like Stepford Buffy." Dawn flipped her long hair over her shoulder and checked her watch. "Wanna walk me to the Magic Shop?"  
  
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
"Bloody hell."  
  
Spike threw his beeping cell phone against the wall. Sodding modern technology. Never did anyone any good. But after Buffy died, Red had insisted. Said they needed to be able to contact him more quickly.  
  
Bollocks.  
  
Spike's head pounded as he lit a cigarette and retrieved his phone. It was still beeping, echoing through his poor hungover brain.  
  
Buffy. Maybe the Watcher had the scoop. Did he even want to know?  
  
"You have two new messages. Message one. Spike! Good news. The fax came through. You can read it for yourself and I think you'll be pleased. Well, it's sad and stuff, but I'm not evil. Really!"  
  
Spike exhaled the smoke from his lungs in a large burst. Suddenly his head didn't hurt at all.  
  
"Message two. Hi Spike, it's Buffy. Sorry to bother you, but it's important. Anyway, if you could meet me at the Magic Shop at 6pm tonight, we need to have a meeting of the Scoobies. It's really important."  
  
Spike's head began to pound again. Something was not right.  
  
END PART TWENTY TWO  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	23. Chapter 23

Title: Another Dawn, Chapter 23   
Author: Sanguine   
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and 20th-Century Fox own these characters. The situations presented here come from my own twisted brain.   
Distribution: With permission.   
Rating: PG-13   
Feedback: Yes, please! BTW, I wrote this story before the new season. Buffy coming back wrong, Willow doing the forget spell on Tara and having it backfire, Spike's chip malfunctioning and his decision to "test" it, Buffy's financial problems . . . the completed version has been on my website since September, so any similarity to current plot events is purely accidental.   


Lydia Higginbottom used the rearview mirror to reapply her lipstick. The message she'd received from William--Spike--on her mobile had been quite odd. Cryptic even. Meet him at 6pm at the Magic Box. 

Lydia carefully blotted her lips on a tissue, then looked at her watch. 5:45pm. What could he possibly want? 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

"Thanks, Kevin. I'll see you later?" Dawn smiled broadly at her dark-haired companion. 

Kevin's eyes sparkled in response. "You gonna be at the Bronze later? Maybe we could hook up?" 

Dawn's eyes shifted to the side before she responded. She really ought to ask Buffy, but . . . "Sure! I'll be there. Say 8?" 

"Yup. Sounds good. See you at 8." Kevin waved and turned to leave. 

Dawn pulled on the Magic Box door. The bell sounded loudly. 

Anya popped up eagerly from behind the counter. "May I help--Oh." Her face crumpled in disappointment. "It's just you. I thought you might be a paying customer. Either that, or Xander." 

Dawn absent-mindedly picked up what looked like a paperweight from the counter and played with it in one hand. "No problem. You seen Buffy yet?" 

Anya's eyes widened as she watched Dawn precariously balance the object in her hand. "No, I haven't. Um, would you mind putting that down? If it breaks it will summon a Ratchos demon, and they tend to be rather grumpy. We don't need that kind of chaos. Not with Sp--not with--um--everything, you know, in Sunnydale--well, it's the Hellmouth." 

"Oh." Dawn put the not-so-innocuous object down. "Sorry." 

An awkward silence fell over the shop. Crickets chirped. Dust mites began a conga line. Or maybe that was just Dawn's over-active imagination. 

"Niblet!" 

"Spike!" Dawn watched as the vampire dashed into the shop, blanket shielding him from the last rays of the sun. "What's up?" 

"You tell me. I got a message to meet Buffy at the shop." 

"Me too." Dawn grinned widely and took the blanket from the vampire. "You're still smoking." 

"Yeah." Spike rolled his eyes. "That sister of yours has a tendency to have meetings during non-vamp friendly hours." He paused and withdrew a cigarette from his jacket pocket. "You have any idea what your sister wants, Niblet? She sounded . . ." 

"Odd. I know. I said to Kevin that . . ." 

"Kevin? Who's this Kevin bloke?" Spike flicked open his Zippo. 

Anya shifted nervously behind the counter. Quickly, she pulled a cross necklace from under her sweater. "Um, Spike. You can't--you can't smoke in here." 

Spike shot Anya a puzzled look. What had gotten her knickers in a twist? He winked at her and lit his Marlboro, carefully blowing the smoke away from Dawn. 

Dawn opened her mouth to answer, but she was quite literally saved by the bell--the bell to the Magic Box. 

"Xander! Anya rushed to hug her fiancé, a task that was made awkward by the crossbow he clutched. "We got some new, um, stuff in the back room." She nodded towards Spike. "Maybe we could talk about him--um--I mean it--the stuff?" Nervously, she tugged on Xander's sleeve. 

Xander glared at Spike. "Not now, Anya." 

Anya's brow wrinkled. "Xander, I don't think . . . " 

"Later, Anya." Xander's eyes filled with rage as he approached Spike. Swiftly, he aimed his crossbow at the vampire. "What do you say? Let's just finish it here and now." 

"Xander!" Dawn screamed and moved protectively in front of Spike. "What are you doing?" 

"Get away from him, Dawn! I'm gonna do it. I mean it." 

Spike's expression changed from surprise, to hurt, then settled on suppressed rage. He drew deeply on his cigarette and blew the smoke towards Xander. Finally, he spoke. "Niblet, do what the man says. Back away." 

Dawn shook her head. "No." Defiantly she regarded Xander. "Why are you doing this?" 

Xander smiled grimly. "Spike, why don't you tell Anya and Dawn what you've been up to?" 

Spike laughed. "Isn't this special? Just like old times." Without warning, he moved towards Xander, knocked the crossbow from his hands, and pinned his arm behind his back. "I've always admired you, boy. You always rush in, even though you know you don't have what it takes. Yeah, you're brave. Too bad you're stupid." 

A stunned silence fell over the shop. Spike's game face emerged. Angrily, he thrust Xander away. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, boy." 

Xander's eyes widened in horror. 

"Yeah, that's right. This is what you see. This is all you'll ever see. A demon. It's that simple for you, isn't it?" 

"Spike?" The bell at the front of the Magic Box rang as Buffy entered the shop. "Spike, I got your message to meet you here and . . . " Buffy's mouth gaped as she took in the scene. Xander. Crossbow. Spike in game face. Dawn and Anya looking pale. "Oh my God." 

Spike shook his head and the demon receded. "Buffy, I . . ." 

"What the HELL is going on?" Buffy seethed with fury. 

"He's a killer, Buffy. I saw the pictures. I saw what he did. I was going to talk to you first, see why you didn't--take care of him, but then I saw him and I just couldn't . . ." 

Buffy's eyes flared. "How dare you, Xander? You can't just kill him. You just can't take a life like that!" 

"He wasn't too worried about the homeless guy's life." 

"Wait a bloody minute! I didn't kill the bloke. I just--I just . . . " 

"Had a snack? Uh-uh Spike. I checked it out. The body's at the morgue." 

"What?" Buffy's face contorted with doubt. "You told me that . . ." 

"Hello?" Clipped British tones echoed through the shop. "William? I got your message." 

"Why did you call Lydia, Spike?" A note of jealousy crept into Buffy's voice. 

The bell rang again. 

Spike continued to glare at Xander. "It's a fucking party!" 

"Hey, guys." A drawn-looking Willow dropped her bag when she saw the grim expression on everyone's faces. "Um, what's going on here?" 

"That's what I'd like to know." Buffy looked around the shop. "The only person that's not here is Tara." 

Willow's eyes filled with tears. "She won't be joining us. Ever. We kinda broke up and . . ." 

"Oh Will! I'm so sorry." Buffy temporarily forgot the mess that was her life as she moved to comfort her friend. 

"Hey, Slayer. Crisis here. Whelp tried to kill me. Body in the morgue, remember? We have all those lovely trust issues to rehash." Spike took another drag from his cigarette, the pain in his eyes belying his cavalier words. "Let's get this done." 

"Yes, I agree, William." The bell rang again and Doc calmly entered the shop, Lena Petrovich following close behind. "Let's finish this, once and for all." 

END PART TWENTY-THREE   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	24. Chapter 24

Title: Another Dawn, Chapter 24   
Author: Sanguine   
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and 20th-Century Fox own these characters. The situations presented here come from my own twisted brain.   
Distribution: With permission.   
Rating: PG-13   
Feedback: Yes, please!   


Spike threw his cigarette to the floor and extinguished it with his heel. Fists clenched, he tilted his head to the side, assessing the situation. 

Fuck it. 

With a growl he leapt at Doc. Easily, the small suit-clad man with the deceivingly benevolent eyes stepped to the side. Spike landed with an ungraceful splat, splitting his head open in the process. As he painfully attempted to stand, blood began to trickle down his cheek. 

Doc smiled. "William, William, William. When will you learn, my friend? You can't hurt me." 

"I'm. Not. Your. Bloody. Friend." 

"Semantics, William. Technically, we play for the same team." 

"Not anymore," Spike growled. 

"What about the homeless man, William? You killed him fairly recently." Suddenly, Doc was right behind Spike, whispering in his ear. "Did he taste good?" 

Spike attempted to swing at the man, but again he failed to connect. With Doc, he always failed. 

Doc laughed with casual malevolence. "As amusing as your paltry attempts to kill me are, that's not my real purpose here. My real purpose is to watch you die. Ms. Petrovich can hardly contain her excitement." 

On cue, Lena Petrovich shot Spike an eager smile. 

"Oooh. Big words, little man." Buffy raised the crossbow that Xander had brought into the shop. "But I wonder how chatty you'll be with an arrow through your throat." 

"Go ahead, Slayer. Try it." Impassively, he considered Buffy as she fired. 

He didn't move. 

The arrow diverted its course in mid-air and whizzed ineffectually by his head, lodging itself firmly in the wall. 

Doc smiled. "See, I told you. Nothing you can do now, girl." 

Buffy's eyes widened. Her dream. Doc had said that in her dream! 

"You can't hurt me, not anymore. Not now. You have your friend Spike to thank for that." 

Doc's eyes turned pure black. He smirked and turned towards Dawn. "Hello, Dawnie. Still here, huh? No thanks to me." Slowly, he walked towards her. 

Panic choked Spike. Not Little Bit. Not again. "Get away from her! It's me you want." 

Dawn began to shake as Doc lovingly cupped her face in his hand. "So much potential," he mused. "Too bad it was wasted." 

With a primal cry, Buffy flew towards the creature, aiming a lethal kick at his head. 

She missed. 

In the blink of an eye, Doc was across the shop. "No dice, Slayer. Nice form, though." 

"You want Spike? Then you'll leave us alone?" Xander met Doc's pupil-less eyes with grim determination. 

Doc nodded. 

"He's all yours." Xander motioned towards the vamp. "Go on. Take him." 

"Xander!" Dawn shrieked his name in dismay. 

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Buffy hissed. 

"Mr. Harris, it's interesting that you're so intolerant of William, yet you are marrying an ex-vengeance demon with far more dead bodies to her credit. Very interesting indeed. You intrigue me." 

Xander forgot about Spike. "How do you know so much? How do you know about Anya?" 

"Mr. Harris, Anya and I are old acquaintances, aren't we dear?" Doc winked playfully at Anya. 

Desperately, Anya turned to Xander. "Xander, I don't--I didn't--I . . ." 

Xander's rage bubbled over. "You bastard! How dare you?" He rushed towards Doc and connected with a swift uppercut. 

Doc took a step backwards and touched his tongue to his now bleeding mouth. "You're full of surprises, Mr. Harris. I genuinely didn't see that coming." Raising one hand, he chanted under his breath. Xander flew against the wall, slumping into unconsciousness. "But ultimately, Mr. Harris, you can't defeat me either." 

Buffy sidled up to Willow. "Willow, I think it's time for a spell." 

Willow shook her head. "No, Buffy. I don't do magic anymore." 

Doc smiled. "Yes, Willow, why don't you tell your friends why you've sworn off the black arts?" 

Willow's mouth opened and closed in shock. "How? What?" 

"I loved that forgetting spell you did on Tara. I admire your craft. C'mon. I'd like to see you work. Give it a try." 

Willow's eyes flashed black before she dissolved in tears. "I can't. I just can't. I might. I--Oh God." Sobbing, she collapsed to the floor. 

"Two down, just a few more to go." Doc's head turned at an unnatural angle. In this grotesque position, he considered Lydia. "Dr. Higginbottom, I presume? Nice of you to make it. I'm surprised you're not doing your job, though. Isn't the Council supposed to eradicate the vampiric threat? Or is William here excluded for some reason?" He approached Lydia. "Does he get a free ride, just because he's a good lay?" 

"I--didn't--I never--I . . . " Lydia stammered uncomfortably, the colour rising in her cheeks. 

Doubt filled Buffy. Unbidden. Unwanted. But it was still there. Had they? First the homeless man, now this. Could she ever trust a soulless vampire? Wouldn't it just be better for everyone if he went away? 

"Buffy." Spike met her eyes. "I didn't . . . " 

"Blah, blah, blah. Time's a-wasting, kiddos. William, I think you've lost her now. Best just come with me. Hey, you can hang out in one of my hell dimensions, tortured for an eternity. You'd like that, Lena? Would that be sufficient punishment for what this monster did to your family?" Doc gushed overdramatically. 

Lena nodded grimly. 

"After that eternity is over, you'll be more than ready to have a bit of fun. And I know just the fun you like, William. Murder. Mayhem. Destruction. Chaos. My specialties!" 

"So that's what this is about, mate? Revenge? Recruiting new talent?" 

Doc shrugged. "Yeah. Well, that and the chaos. It was great playing with all of you. You were all so easy to lead astray. But humans usually are." 

"Buffy." While Doc goaded Spike Lydia pulled Buffy behind the counter. "I think I've figured it out, who he is, how to defeat him." 

"I don't know if I can trust you." Buffy whispered in Lydia's ear. "What if . . . " 

"That's exactly what he wants. What he does. Divide and conquer. He is darkness. He is evil. He is chaos." 

Buffy's eyes widened as Lydia continued. 

"He is the inverse of good, the ruler of demons, the ultimate authority of all hell dimensions." 

"That's why he was so excited about starting up hell on earth. I get it now." 

"The reason you and Spike can't hurt him is because you're demons yourselves." 

"I'm not--" 

"You're contaminated, Buffy." 

"That's why Xander could hurt him. He's normal." Buffy looked over at Xander, still slumped against the wall. He stirred slightly. "But Xander won't be enough, will he?" 

"He can't really be defeated, he can only be driven away. And you, as the ultimate champion of the forces of goodness, should be the one to beat him into submission, but unfortunately . . ." 

"The vamp blood." 

"Yes. I think that's the problem." 

"But I drank from Dracula before, and I was able to throw Doc off the tower." 

"Hmmm." Lydia's eyes brightened. "Wait. Perhaps it's about the balance. A little bit of vampiric blood won't cause a problem. But the amount you have in your system now . . ." 

"It might be too much." 

"Yes. Perhaps if Spike could partially drain you . . ." 

"No. Absolutely not. Not after what he did to the homeless guy. He lied to me. He said he didn't kill him. Both Xander and Doc said . . ." 

"I wouldn't trust what the Dark One says. And Xander might not have accurate information." Lydia clasped one of Buffy's hands. "Buffy, it's the only way." 

More images from her dreams, her erotic nightmares, flashed before her eyes. 

"Your power is rooted in darkness." 

"Slayerrr." 

"Slayer." 

"What should I do, Slayer?" 

"Take me." 

"As you wish, pet." 

Buffy knew what she had to do, what Spike had to do. The question was, how could she distract Doc long enough to do it? 

Willow. 

Buffy watched as Spike swung again at Doc, provoking another fit of laughter from the demon king as he easily dodged the blow. Doc was just taunting Spike now. Taking his time, having fun. Big ego much? But that oversized ego could be useful. 

"Willow." Buffy put her arm around the distraught witch's shoulders. "I really need you to do something for me. I promise it won't be bad." 

"No magic. No. No. No." Willow sobbed and shook her head. 

"Keep your voice down, Will. Just one spell. It won't hurt anyone. Do you think you could contain Doc and Lena in some kind of shield thingy? Just for a few minutes? I think I know why I can't hurt Doc, and I need the time." 

Willow sniffled. "Just a containment spell? That's it?" 

"That's it, Will. I promise." 

Willow nodded reluctantly. "I-I'll do it. But this is the last time. I mean it, Buffy. Don't ask me again." 

"OK. OK. Try it now!" Buffy saw Doc fling Spike away from him like a rag doll. "Now, Will! Now!" 

Willow drew a deep breath. "Imprison!" The power rushed from her in waves, leaving her exhausted, decimated. 

Doc's hands felt the invisible shield form in front of him. "Impressive, witch. But how long will it last?" 

"Long enough." Buffy spat defiantly. "Spike! Come here! Hurry!" 

Spike limped towards the Slayer. "What is it?" His eyes filled with pain. "Time to give me over, huh?" 

"No. Stop it. We don't have time for that. I need you to drink me. Drink my blood. It's the only way." 

"Slayer! What the bloody hell are you thinking? I'd never --I can't--No!" 

"You have to. It's why I can't fight him. The demon blood in me. The vampire blood. Your blood. I need it gone." 

"But you'll be weak, pet. You won't be able to fight." 

"He's evil. I'm the champion of good. I'm the only one who can do it. Weak or not, it's our only chance." 

"Slayer--Buffy." Spike's voice broke. "I don't think I can . . ." 

Buffy kissed him softly. 

Spike's eyes flooded with unshed tears. When he finally spoke, his voice was deep and gravelly. "What do you want me to do?" 

"Just do it Spike! Take me." Buffy tilted her neck towards him. 

Gently, Spike caressed her face as the demon emerged. 

"As you wish." 

END PART TWENTY-FOUR   


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	25. Chapter 25

Title: Another Dawn, Chapter 25   
Author: Sanguine   
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and 20th-Century Fox own these characters. The situations presented here come from my own twisted brain.   
Distribution: With permission.   
Rating: PG-13   
Feedback: Yes, please! BTW, I wrote this story before the new season. Buffy coming back wrong, Willow doing the forget spell on Tara and having it backfire, Spike's chip malfunctioning and his decision to "test" it, Buffy's financial problems . . . the completed version has been on my website since September, so any similarity to current plot events is purely accidental.   


Spike's fangs plunged into Buffy's neck and tentatively he began to drink. He used to dream about this. Now it was a nightmare. 

Buffy cried out in pain. 

"Love, you OK?" Spike withdrew his fangs. 

Buffy nodded and clenched her teeth. "Spike, just do it. We don't have much time!" 

Spike drank. Buffy's heartbeat rang in his ears. The familiar feeling of intoxication, of bloodlust, began to take over. His blood mixed with the Slayer's. A heady combination. 

Pleasure rushed through Buffy. It didn't hurt anymore. Her toes began to feel numb. Her arms were heavy. Spike was so close. He was inside her now, a part of her. So peaceful. 

Spike heard her heart slow. Part of him wanted to finish, wanted to continue, wanted to consume her completely, wanted to drink. 

Buffy's mouth curved in a languid smile. "Mmmmmmm." 

"No!" Spike roughly pushed Buffy away. "No." He wiped his mouth guiltily. He saw horrified faces. Doc snickered. Xander shakily got to his feet and attempted to make his way towards Spike. 

"Now I'm really gonna kill you." 

Spike shook his head, his voice barely a whisper. "She asked me to, she asked me to, she asked me to." The words ran together, mantra-like. 

"Xander," Buffy croaked, rising to a standing position. She swayed for a moment, but then regained her balance. "Stop. I asked him to. It was the only way." 

"She asked me to, she asked me to, she asked me to." Spike still whispered the words, under his breath. 

Buffy put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Let's get some weapons from the training room." 

Spike didn't answer. "She asked me to, she asked me to, she asked me to." 

"Spike," Buffy spun the vampire to face her. "I need you. Now." Quickly, she turned to Xander. "Xander, watch Doc." Spike followed Buffy, trance-like, into the training room. 

Doc had seen the blood-sucking action and his countenance registered concern. He tested the shield. Still there. 

Lena Petrovich began to hyperventilate. "Oh God!" Watching Spike feed had brought back the memories of her parents' death in graphic detail. "Oh God!" She dissolved in sobs. 

"Shut. Up." Doc backhanded her. She landed outside the shield's perimeter with an unpleasant crunch. No more shield. Doc smiled cruelly and moved towards Dawn. "I hate whining, don't you?" 

Xander moved to intercept him. "Don't try anything again, Doc, or I'll . . ." 

"You'll what? Punch me again? Unpleasant, but that won't exactly do the job, Mr. Harris." 

"But maybe this will." 

Buffy appeared in the door, large flamethrower in hand. Spike followed with additional weaponry: a crossbow and a large lethal-looking axe. "So, Doc. I was thinking. You like hell so much? Why don't you go there?" 

She fired. 

Flame engulfed Doc. "Nooooooo!" Spinning around, he set the wooden counter of the store alight. Then the display cabinet. He seemed intent on doing as much damage to the shop as possible. Then he did the unthinkable. He grabbed the still-unconscious Lena Petrovich with one hand. "Fancy some more innocent blood on your hands, Slayer?" 

Buffy took a step towards Lena, trying to save her, trying to stop him. Her head began to swim. Suddenly, she felt a hand on her arm, supporting her. Through blurry eyes, Buffy watched as the flames traveled up Lena's arm. Lena regained consciousness just as her blouse caught on fire. Her shrieks filled the shop. 

Xander grabbed a fire extinguisher and desperately tried to put out the fire, but she continued to burn. Finally, the screams stopped. Lena was burned beyond recognition. Dead. 

Doc laughed and gestured with a fiery hand. "It only hurts a little, Slayer. You can do better than that." 

Buffy shook her head and her vision cleared. Her eyes glinted coldly. "You bet I can." 

Spike handed her the axe and she swung at the demon king's head. With one stroke it fell to the ground. 

Xander quickly extinguished the fire on the now immobile body. The eyes--the only part of Doc's face that was completely intact--rolled upwards, seeking Buffy. His mouth worked for a moment before he spoke in grotesque parody of a voice, "You get an 'A' for effort, girl. See you next time!" 

Doc's body disappeared. 

"Xander! The counter!" 

The flames crept dangerously close to Anya as she tried to put them out using Spike's old blanket. 

Xander sprayed it down thoroughly, and smoke filled the shop. 

Completely devastated. That's how it looked. That's how they felt. 

Gently, Buffy lifted Lena's burned head, a tear leaking from her eye. "I'm so sorry." 

Spike dropped the crossbow he had been holding and watched Buffy cry. Without a word, he left the shop. 

END CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	26. Chapter 26

Title: Another Dawn, Chapter 26   
Author: Sanguine   
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and 20th-Century Fox own these characters. The situations presented here come from my own twisted brain.   
Distribution: With permission.   
Rating: PG-13   
Feedback: Here's the cheesy ending. It's kind of sappy. I apologise.   


Willow helped Anya adjust her wedding veil. "Have you heard from him yet?" 

Buffy shook her carefully coifed head. "No," she said softly. "I think he's left town. I've checked his crypt. All his stuff is gone. And he doesn't answer his cell phone." Self-consciously, she touched the place where his fangs punctured her skin. All that remained was a small white scar. "He doesn't want to be found, Will." 

"I tried to send an invitation to him, Buffy." Anya considered her friend sympathetically. "Do you know how hard it is to find a valid address for his crypt? So I just ended up hand-delivering it." 

"You saw him?" Buffy looked up hopefully. 

"No. I just left it there. But maybe he'll come." Anya smiled cheerfully. 

Buffy's lip trembled. 

"Oh, honey." Willow patted her hand. "Did you try writing a note to Spike? Even if he never read it, it might make you feel better." 

"When I couldn't find him, I left him a letter at the crypt. That was two months ago, right after the mess with Doc. I told him--I told him that I knew he was telling the truth about the homeless guy. And I let him know that--um . . ." Buffy sniffled and tried to smile. "OK, Will. We have to stop talking about this. 'Cause I'm gonna cry and then I'll have raccoon eyes, and a bridesmaid with raccoon eyes would not make for a happy bride." 

Anya patted Buffy's shoulder. She looked at her bridesmaids and sighed. "Martha Stewart would be proud." 

The women heard a small knock on the door. "Anya, Willow, Buffy, they're ready for you." 

"Thanks, Giles." Buffy smiled wanly. At least Giles was here. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

The wedding went off without a hitch. Anya beamed. Xander grinned goofily. The small gathering of friends and family watched as Anya Jacobs became Anya Jacobs Harris. 

"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride." 

Eagerly, Xander lifted her veil and kissed his wife. 

Buffy smiled tightly and wiped away a tear. This was something she'd never have. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

Spike carefully took the well-worn letter from his jacket pocket. He needed to read it again. 

Dear Spike, 

This is probably the hardest letter I've ever had to write. I'm not good at sharing my feelings. But there were so many things I wanted to tell you, and you never gave me the chance. 

First, I know you didn't kill the man. He died of cirrhosis. The blood-letting probably didn't help things, but still, you didn't kill him. You might wonder how I'd feel if you had killed him. Could I have accepted that? You deserve an honest answer: no. 

Second, I don't want you blaming yourself for anything. I asked you to drink from me. I know you enjoyed it; how could you not? You're a vampire. It's in your nature. Does it bother me that every day you'll have to wake up and decide to be good? That you'll always be tempted? Again, you deserve an honest answer: it does. 

But I want to let you in on a secret: when you drank from me . . . I enjoyed it, too. I felt peace for the first time since I died. 

Since you left, I've thought a lot about why I enjoyed it, why I wasn't scared. At first I just chalked it up to your amazing abilities of seduction. OK, I promised myself I wouldn't be flippant in this letter, and look what's happened! Scratch that thought. Let's try again. 

At first, I just chalked it up to your natural vampiric abilities. After all, that's one of the things you guys do, right? Seduce victims? Make them feel good before they die? 

Then I thought maybe I had a death wish or something. Feeling nostalgic for the afterlife. But that wasn't it either. 

The reason I felt peace was because I trusted you. I trusted you with my life. I knew it would be a difficult choice for you. I knew that you would be tempted. But deep down inside I knew you would stop. 

I knew you loved me. 

You asked me once if I loved you. I said maybe. That wasn't fair to you. I knew the answer even then. I was just too afraid to say it. 

I do. Love you, I mean. 

Now I've laid my cards on the table. I'm not a poet like you, so this letter isn't flowery or full of interesting turns of phrase. But I hope the meaning behind it is true and clear. 

You are not beneath me. 

I do see you. 

I love you. 

Buffy.   


Spike folded the letter up and placed it in his pocket. He sighed deeply. "Right, Spike. No time like the present." 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

Buffy sipped champagne from an elegant glass and watched Xander and Anya dance. Willow sat at her side, the dark smudges around her eyes apparent. She still wasn't sleeping. Not that Buffy had been sleeping well herself. Memories of Lena Petrovitch, burning. Memories of Spike. Buffy took Willow's hand. "So, Will. How are you doing? You're all concerned about me. But how about you? Have you heard from Tara?" 

Willow shook her head. "No, Buffy. That's over. And it's really what I deserve--after what I did." 

Buffy stroked Willow's hair. "Oh, honey. What you did--well--that wasn't good. But you were scared and when people are scared they do stupid, irrational things. Maybe if you tried to apologize to Tara again, maybe . . ." Buffy's words trailed off as she saw a familiar blonde appear at the door of the reception hall. "Spike?" 

"Huh?" Willow followed Buffy's eyes. "Oh Buffy! He's here. He did come!" 

But Buffy didn't hear her. She'd already started to walk towards the vampire. 

Spike placed a small package wrapped in brown paper on the gift table. His copy of Shakespeare's Sonnets. That was one William who knew how to write about love. 

"Spike?" 

"Buffy." 

The silence stretched awkwardly. Spike panicked. Obviously, she didn't want to see him. "I--I--just--well, I wanted to give Anya and the boy a little something. It's--it's nothing much. I'll be off now . . ." 

"Why did you leave?" 

Spike smirked, but his eyes registered his pain. "I figured that after what I did, you might not want me around." He shrugged. "Decided it was time to get out of SunnyD. Find myself a new base of operations." 

"Spike? Didn't you get my letter? I know you didn't kill that man. And what you did to me--for me . . ." 

"I got it. But--I'm still a monster, Buffy." 

"I love you, Spike." 

Spike shook his head. "Slayer, I can't . . ." 

Buffy extended a hand to him. "Spike, I want to dance." 

Gently, like it was a precious object, Spike took her hand. He stroked her palm, savouring the strength that lay just underneath its deceptively fragile surface. "If I profane with my unworthiest hand . . ." 

Buffy smiled. "Spike, we're not star-crossed lovers." 

Spike studied her eyes, looking for the answer he needed. Did she want this? Really? 

For the first time, he saw something he'd always wanted, but never had. Complete acceptance. 

Smiling broadly, Spike pulled Buffy to him. "OK, pet. Let's dance." 

THE END   
  
  
  
  



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